Interval
by Jaz22
Summary: Post 'Hiatus' - Tony does all he can to hold his team together, but who will notice if he goes home at night and quietly falls apart? Explores the emotional fallout of Hiatus, with some H/C at the end. NOW COMPLETE!
1. Prologue

_A/N: While this technically could fit into my 'Fragments' series, I've decided to make it a self-standing story for one main reason - it actually will encompass several different episodes, starting with 'Hiatus Part Two' and moving forward through the first bit of Season Four. It is assumed that the reader has seen these episodes, or else there will be gaps that make no sense. Spoilers for anything up to those episodes._

_AZGirl asked me a long while back to write a fragment for 'Hiatus', and I confess, I was intrigued. It seemed to me that there were a wealth of emotions stemming from that episode that could be explored, and I loved the idea of climbing into Tony's head during that time period. Surprisingly to me, Gibbs also had a lot to say. This story is, as usual for me, Tony/Gibbs centered, with a healthy splash of Abby and a smattering of all TeamGibbs. Not slash - more father/son. Just a small prologue to get us started. There will be no further author notes unless it pertains directly to the chapter, and I will post a chapter at least once a week (more if I'm able)._

_The characters are not mine, and no profit is being made._

Interval

By Jaz

_~Prologue~_

"You should go."

The first words from DiNozzo in nearly an hour were so quiet Gibbs almost didn't hear them. He let his gaze run over the wounded man, noting that although the sheen of fever was still present on his face, his green eyes were once again lucid. He gave the suggestion all the consideration he felt it deserved, promptly ignoring it.

DiNozzo shifted restlessly, trying to find a position that didn't hurt quite as much, his free hand weakly pushing against the now-bloody rag Gibbs had pressed into his side only a short time before. He looked over to the stairway of the damp basement they were being held captive in as if listening for the sound of a key turning in the locked door. "She'll be back, you know," he stated almost conversationally. "She may be a whack job who's gone off the deep end, but I'm pretty sure she's with it enough to know it's a bad idea to leave us alive to track her down." His voice was raspy and thin, but his conviction was firm.

Gibbs glared at him as a matter of course, raising his own cuffed hand in wordless explanation. "Where the hell am I supposed to go, DiNozzo? We've got no car, and we're in the middle of freakin' nowhere."

Tony coughed, and Gibbs froze, waiting to see if the deep, wet, barking would continue to the point where the younger man was unable to breathe. When Tony was able to control it after only a few moments, Jethro relaxed fractionally, his gaze once more focusing on his senior field agent's face.

Tony took as deep a breath as his beleaguered lungs would allow and persevered, certain he was right. "That's my point, Gibbs. Any chance of us getting out of here has to be with you. Because we both know I'm not going anywhere."

Gibbs shook his head at his agent's lack of subtlety. He knew 'us getting out of here' translated into 'you getting out of here'. If he left DiNozzo behind, he was certain any rescue he managed to return with would be too late to help him, and the young man would find his way back to NCIS only as a guest on one of Ducky's tables. An absolutely unacceptable option. No way in hell was he leaving a man behind.

Especially not this man.

He said as much. "Not leaving you, DiNozzo."

Tony allowed his head to drift to the side, breaking the eye contact he'd struggled to maintain. His voice, when he spoke, was barely a whisper, carrying a world of hurt behind the words.

"Not like you haven't before. . ."

TBC...


	2. Aftermath

"_You'll do. It's your team now." (Gibbs, to Tony)_

_Hiatus, Part Two_

~0~

_**Several months prior, after the events of 'Hiatus Part Two' . . .**_

"Semper Fi."

Gibbs' final words still hung on the air as Tony watched the elevator doors close behind the man. It had to be a mistake, right? Gibbs couldn't really be leaving. Not for good, anyway. He'd be back.

Yeah, okay, Gibbs was upset after watching the ship blow, knowing all those lives had been lost for no reason. He wasn't the only one. Senseless death for the sake of political cover-up wasn't what Tony had signed on for either.

But that didn't mean Tony was just going to walk out the door. _'DiNozzo's don't bail'_, he reminded himself, even though there was a part of him that wanted to run away every bit as much as Gibbs had. Because apparently, that _is_ what Gibbs had done. Tony stood waiting for the elevator doors to open back up, for Gibbs to stroll back into the bullpen and say '_Sorry, didn't really mean it. You guys didn't really think I'd leave you high and dry, did you?'_ Except that would never happen, because Gibbs never, ever said he was sorry about anything. Gibbs was walking. Leaving. Quitting. The man had had enough, and decided his time was up. Sayonara. See you later, alligator. Don't let the door hit you on the way out.

'_Semper Fi?'_ Just what the hell was that supposed to mean_? 'Hey, I expect you guys to remain always faithful, even though I'm going to ditch and run? Do as I say, not as I do?_' Funny, he'd never taken Gibbs to be a quitter.

Granted, the man had been through a lot lately. Getting blown up tended to give you a different outlook on things, apparently. Of course, waking up having lost fifteen years of your life had to have taken its toll as well. Not that any of his team would have been able to tell the difference. The years Gibbs had lost weren't ones he'd ever shared with his teammates. Not even Ducky, who'd known him longer than the rest. Long enough to know all three of Gibbs' wives. Or rather, three out of four.

And even though it hurt, knowing Gibbs had deliberately kept that part of his life a secret from those he claimed to be closest to, Tony could kind of understand. He had enough secrets in his own life that he'd just as soon keep hidden away. The more painful the secret, the less you wanted to share it with anyone.

Tony had left the office every night this week, well after hours, and slipped into Gibbs' hospital room, spending a few hours watching the older man as he slept. Didn't matter that Gibbs never knew he sat beside him, that they never talked. Tony felt better just being in the same room with the man, listening to him breathe, knowing he was there. Knowing that he was alive and breathing. That he hadn't left Tony behind.

And that was the crux of it. For the last five years, Tony's place in life was on Gibbs' six. It was a right he had earned – the position directly behind Gibbs', his second in command, his Senior Field Agent. Tony would willingly follow that man to hell and back, and had, more than once. There was no one in his life that Tony trusted more. No one who had proved himself more worthy. No one he relied on more whenever trouble came his way.

Gibbs was his compass, providing guidance and direction in a world that didn't always make sense. He'd opened his home to Tony countless times when Tony needed a place to stay. It was Gibbs' words, '_We're coming for you_,' that had broken through his drug-induced haze and kept him alive and holding on when Tony had been trapped in the sewers with Sergeant Atlas. And it had been Gibbs' utter conviction whispered firmly into his ear that had kept Tony from dying when he'd been infected with the plague.

"Tony."

If Gibbs wasn't here, who was going to lead? Who was going to help him keep focused with head-slaps and wake-up calls when needed? Who was going to push him to give one hundred and ten percent when he had nothing left to give, to challenge him to be the best agent he could be?

"Tony."

The gun Gibbs had entrusted to him still felt heavy in his hands, and he looked down at it. It was cold and hard, and yet it felt as if it were burning his fingers. Gibbs couldn't have meant it. He couldn't have expected Tony to take over. Not yet. He wasn't ready. He still had too much to learn. Sure, he'd been acting as team leader. But that was just acting, playing a part, doing an impression. He'd been undercover as team leader. But if Gibbs was gone, and this was real . . .

"Tony!"

"What, McGee?" he snapped, as the sound of his name finally broke through his thoughts, and he lifted his head to meet the equally anguished eyes of the no-longer-probationary field agent. He knew McGee was floundering too, knew that he was looking to Tony for reassurance, for guidance, for anything. Tony wasn't sure he had anything to give him.

McGee gave him a long, piercing look, and Tony couldn't help but feel he'd already been measured and found wanting. If Gibbs was the ruler by which he was judged, then it was no wonder. Not saying anything, McGee simply nodded his head toward the figure behind him.

Tony followed the direction of his nod, and his eyes came to rest on Abby, who was quietly and completely falling apart. Her hands were clasped in front of her, her knuckles white as she held them tightly together, as if by holding fast, Gibbs wouldn't really be able to go. The tears streamed silently down her cheeks, leaving black trails as her mascara ran. Her face held an expression he'd only seen once before, on that dark night a year ago when he'd returned to headquarters with Kate's blood still staining his face. _God. Had it only been a year?_

That look tore at his heart now just as it had done then. That night, though, she'd had Gibbs to comfort her, Gibbs to hold her, Gibbs to tell her that everything would be okay, even if it really wouldn't. But Gibbs wasn't here now.

'_You'll do.'_ The words echoed in his ears once again. Hardly a ringing endorsement. Though, from Gibbs, he would probably never get better. Gibbs thought he could do this, had entrusted him with his gun, his badge and his team, the people the older man cared about more than anyone else in the world. He'd left them all in Tony's hands, and he expected Tony to pick up the pieces. Gibbs thought he could do this.

It was the first time Tony had ever known Gibbs to be wrong.

Still, though, Abby stood there, distraught and weeping, and it was that look on her face that pulled him out of his own grief and confusion and spurred him into action. He carefully laid the gun down on his desk, slipping Gibbs' badge surreptitiously into his jacket pocket before moving over to where she stood sobbing silently. He reached for her without words and pulled her into his arms, drawing her head in until it was resting on his shoulder and he could feel her tears wetting his neck. He murmured words of comfort, nonsensical words with little meaning, the tone of his voice gentle and soothing. He found himself unconsciously rocking her back and forth, and when she wrapped her arms around him and held him for all he was worth, he blinked his own eyes furiously, refusing to give in to emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. She was the happiest person he knew, and he hated to see her cry. A flash of anger tore through him, surprising him in its intensity as much as its source. How could Gibbs do this to her? To them?

He pushed the anger down, denying its existence, and focused on the woman in his arms who needed his reassurance.

Gibbs thought he could do this.

He'd remind himself of that however many times it took.

He pulled away from her slightly, cupping her cheeks with his hands, using his thumbs to wipe away the tears, heedless of the black smudges left behind, and rested his forehead against hers. "It's going to be okay, Abs," he promised.

"How?" she hiccupped between sobs. "How is it going to be okay? Gibbs is gone, Tony! He's leaving us. Gibbs has always been here. Always. He's our rock. How could he leave?"

He pulled her back into his arms and started rocking again, saying words he wasn't sure he believed. "He needed some time, Abs. Time to get his head on straight. But this is Gibbs. He'll be back. Wait and see."

She pulled away this time, and he could feel McGee's and Ziva's gaze upon him as well as they sought the same reassurance, that this wasn't the end. That they hadn't gotten him back just to lose him again after all.

"How can you be sure?" she asked, desperate for reassurance.

He pulled back just enough to look her in the eye. "I just know."

His quiet conviction apparently convinced her, because she held his gaze and nodded, before pulling her hands free and wiping her eyes. McGee sprang into action behind him, grabbing several tissues from the box on his desk, and handing them to Abby, who smiled at him tremulously.

Gibbs had left. The shock wave from that event could be no less than the one felt during the explosion on the ship. But he'd handed Tony his team before he'd gone, and he was counting on Tony to pull them through this. Tony might have his doubts, but Gibbs thought he could do this.

Tony stepped away from Abby and squared his shoulders. He had a job to do.

He ran a hand over Abby's cheek one last time. "You want to stay at my place tonight?" he asked her quietly, knowing she shouldn't be alone right now.

She nodded gratefully, her eyes filling once again.

"Okay," he said. "Go grab your stuff and meet me back up here. I just need to finish up a few things."

As Abby slipped away, Tony turned back toward his team, telling them to call it a night. The mountains of paperwork could wait until the morning – they deserved a break. Catching the eye of the Director who still hovered on the stairs, looking almost as lost as the rest of them, he felt for her. But she wasn't his responsibility. He raised his eyebrow at her, almost a challenge, daring her to step in and question him as Gibbs' choice. She'd told him earlier that week when he'd stood up to her that she just wanted to see if he had as much guts as Gibbs, and he was prepared to stand his ground now. Apparently it wasn't necessary, as she merely nodded at him and turned to make her way up the stairs.

Tony headed over to where Ziva stood by her desk, coming to stand within a few inches of her. He looked her over closely, taking in the taut shoulders and dry eyes. "You okay?" he asked quietly.

She nodded primly. "I am fine."

He had hardly expected a different answer. Any emotions Ziva felt were definitely something she'd be keeping to herself. Whatever she'd said to Gibbs at the hospital had been enough to cause the other man's memory to return full force, but Tony had a feeling that was another secret Ziva would keep. Still, she too was his responsibility now, and he would do as right by her as she would allow. "You want to come by tonight?" he offered.

She softened slightly, allowing a small smile as she placed her hand on his arm. "I believe you will have your hands full with Abby. Thank you though. I will be fine."

Tony noticed the change in tense, but didn't comment on it. "You sure?"

She nodded again. "Yes. My gym is open all night. I think I will go and work in."

He smiled, knowing she had done that on purpose, but willing to play the game anyway. "Work out, Ziva. It's work out."

She returned the smile. "Yes. Work out. And it will, you know."

While Tony would never admit that he didn't quite believe her, he appreciated her attempt at reassurance. He turned to face McGee. "How about you, Tim? You need anything?" The use of McGee's first name was deliberate, a choice to reach out and even the playing field, a recognition of the younger agent's growth over the past few years, and Tony could see it was appreciated.

"No." McGee held his gaze for just a moment before dropping his eyes to his desk. "Thanks, Tony. I'm going to head home." He hesitated a moment before giving voice to his thoughts, uncertain if sharing them was the right thing. "My folks have been trying to reach me. I think . . . I think I might just go and give them a call."

Tony nodded his head, thankful at least McGee had family he could fall back on in a pinch, even if the rest of them weren't as lucky.

He watched as McGee and Ziva made their way over to the elevator that had so recently taken Gibbs away, before walking over to the older man's desk. It looked just as he had left it, before they'd gone off to the ship so many days ago to meet with Galib, before the explosion, before everything had gone to hell. The computer still whirred in the background, the light was still on. Gibbs glasses still sat on a pile of papers. An empty coffee cup sat near the phone, as if it were just waiting for its owner to return. It looked just as if the man had only stepped away for a moment, as if he had every intention of coming back.

Tony would wait.

~0~

To be continued. . .


	3. Bete Noir

_Chapter Two_

Gibbs came to harsh and sudden wakefulness, sitting bolt upright in the ramshackle bed that he now called his own. His t-shirt was damp with sweat, and while he would blame that on the Mexican heat if anyone dared to ask, he knew better than to lie to himself.

The dreams had started in the hospital. At first, they had been primarily about Shannon and Kelly, memories interspersed with dream fragments of happier times. Times he had spent with the love of his life and his beautiful daughter, the happiest child he'd ever known. Dreams of family, nights the three of them spent sitting on the couch watching some old movie, memories of camping trips and fishing together on a nearly deserted beach.

The painful memories had been there as well – Kelly's tears the last time he'd seen her, as she begged her daddy not to leave. His promise to Shannon that he would return.

He'd kept that promise.

He'd never even thought to make her promise she'd be there when he did.

The dreams turned cruel after that, as he was forced to see their deaths over and over, the interior of the car with their blood splattered everywhere, the images supplemented by crime scene photos he should never have had access to.

Those memories, of course, were followed by his single-minded determination to see the man responsible pay. The relentless pursuit that had taken him across the Mexican border, where he'd lain in wait, lying unmoving in his own filth for two days before the opportunity for the shot came, and he took it.

He wondered to this day if he'd done the right thing in killing Pedro Hernandez.

He didn't have to wonder if he'd do it all over again.

Gibbs scrubbed a hand over his face before moving it upward and running it through his barely lengthening hair, wondering if tonight's dream would still be part of his memories in the morning. They were elusive; his mind still full of gaps that left him wondering what was real and what was imagined. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stumbled to his feet as quietly as possible, trying not to wake Mike in the next room. The walls of this shanty were little more than paper, providing privacy from a visual angle, but hardly anything from an audible one. A quick glance at his watch told him it was nearly three. He already knew there would be no more sleep coming his way this night.

This nightmare had been one of the bad ones.

The nights dreaming of his family had given way once he'd come to Mexico, and he found himself dreaming of his team instead. Again, he believed it was his mind's way of recalling the memories he'd lost, but the dreams were often distorted, the outcomes differing from the ones based in reality, and upon waking, it took him several moments to determine which events had really happened and which had not.

He had dreamed of DiNozzo, lost in the sewers. He knew that memory for reality, and knew he had gotten his agent back only through Tony's own stubbornness and his ability to follow orders – in this case, Rule Number 9 – 'Always carry a knife'. The marine Tony had been with, he couldn't remember his name, had told him how determined Tony had been, and that the young man had never given up hope. In his dreams, though, he could hear Tony on the other side of the maze, lost and calling out to him, but Gibbs was unable to find his way to his agent, until finally, all that was left for him to find was another rotting corpse.

He'd dreamed of the time Tony had been framed for murder by Abby's lab assistant, only in his dreams, they'd been unable to prove Tony innocent, and he'd spent the rest of his days in prison. There had been no celebration party, and instead, Chip had gotten the upper hand and Abby hadn't been quick enough with her Caff-Pow and her duct tape, and Chip had literally gotten away with murder. That dream had been an especially bad one, as Gibbs had lost two of the people most dear to him at once.

He'd dreamed of McGee, that the promising young agent had lost his badge and his career after accidentally shooting and killing an undercover police officer.

And of Ziva, that she had been sent home to Israel after the death of a suspect in an elevator and had soon after been lost to them forever during an assignment from her power-hungry father.

Of Abby, who hadn't come to him in time when she was being stalked by the lunatic she had once dated. That Mikel Mawher hadn't been able to face life without his hot dark angel, and so had taken both their lives in a macabre murder-suicide.

And he had dreamed of Kate, and that had hurt perhaps worst of all, because when he had awoken, he hadn't been able to console himself with the knowledge that it was just a bad dream.

That nightmare had been real.

He pushed open the screen door and stepped out onto the porch, grateful for the slightly cooler air in spite of the dampness of his t-shirt. He walked barefoot down onto the sand, the light of the moon enough to illuminate his way to the water, where he stood, feeling the coolness of the waves as they washed gently over his feet.

Tonight it had been DiNozzo's turn once again to make an appearance. The dream had started off just as he thought the reality had – an envelope sealed with a kiss. The dream DiNozzo had been just as rash, opening it and blowing into the envelope, spreading the tiny white particles into the air. The dream DiNozzo had gotten just as sick, developing a drug-resistant strain of the plague, getting sent to Bethesda and placed under those same damn blue lights.

But in his bete noir they had never been able to follow the clues and find their way to Hannah Lowell and her pharmaceutical company, and the virus had never had a suicide chain. Tony's odds of survival had dropped rapidly, and by the time Gibbs had gotten there, he was barely conscious. Gibbs had leaned over him, as close as he dared and tapped him on the back of the head to get his attention, saying the words he remembered into Tony's ear. "You will not die."

But the dream Tony had only looked at him and whispered one simple question. "Why not?"

Gibbs had been unable to tell him. Unable to put into words all the reasons why the younger man was important to him, all the reasons Tony shouldn't think of himself as expendable, all the reasons Gibbs needed him to stick around. As was so customary for him, the words just wouldn't come. He couldn't tell Tony that he relied on him and him alone to watch his six; that he couldn't begin to imagine a world where Anthony DiNozzo was not his second. He never admitted that he considered the younger man family; the incorrigible kid brother; or the son he'd never had. And Tony had given up waiting for the words to be said, growing sicker and sicker until he finally succumbed to the dreaded disease of the middle ages.

And from that day forward, there had been no loyal senior field agent always on his six, no quirky sense of humor that never failed to make Gibbs smile no matter how much he tried to hide it, no intuitive leaps on cases that no one else could make. He'd realized too late exactly what Tony meant to his team and to his life, but Tony had been dead, and there had been no way to go back and repair the damage.

The slight breeze gently ruffled what was left of his hair, and he forced his thoughts back to the present, hoping that perhaps this memory would be lost to him once again when the dawn came. Walking backwards several steps, he dropped down to the sand, sitting just out of reach of the tendrils of waves that climbed onto the shore. He wrapped his arms around his drawn-up knees and stared out over the ocean, watching the light of the moon as it dappled the waves. The sight brought the beginnings of peace to his tortured thoughts, and he breathed in deeply of the night air, before sensing the effort was futile.

He may not have all his memory back, but he knew peace had never been his friend before.

TBC...


	4. Business Armor

_Chapter Three_

Despite a sleepless night, by the time Tony strode out of the elevator the next morning, he had his game face on. Not to mention his Ermengildo Zenga suit with the Dolce & Gabbana tie, the finest business armor money could buy. He could do this. Gibbs thought he could do this.

He'd held a crying Abby in his arms late into the night, allowing her to voice all her fears and concerns and her memories of Gibbs, until she'd fallen asleep, exhausted. Laying her on his couch, he'd covered her with a blanket and then stood quietly and walked around his living room, turning down the lights. He had unclipped the cell phone from his belt, checking to see if maybe he'd missed a call, that maybe Gibbs had phoned to explain, to say he'd changed his mind, to tell Tony things would be okay.

But nothing had been there.

Tony had debated with himself for nearly ten minutes over whether or not to call Gibbs, finally deciding to wait, to give the older man some time, a day or two, and then he'd call, just to check in, make sure Gibbs was okay, that he didn't need anything. Confident that it was the right course of action, he reattached the phone to his belt. He pulled Gibbs' badge out of his pocket and opened it to the picture ID, running his thumb idly over the corner. Gibbs had been younger then, less gray in his hair. Not much else had changed. His blue eyes were just as intense, his face still wore the same 'Don't screw with me' expression that Tony so often saw. He wasn't quite sure what to do with the badge, so he shoved it into the back pocket of his jeans and then went to sit at the kitchen table.

He had pulled out a nearby legal pad and grabbed a pen, and started making a list of as many of Gibbs' rules as he could remember. He was pretty sure he'd gotten most of them. Then he'd flipped the page and started a new list. 'DiNozzo's Rules.' The first one was easy.

'_Don't Abandon Your Team.'_

He thought of that list now as he exited the elevator and strolled over to his desk. He'd added a few more, like Number Three, 'Never Underestimate Your Opponent.' It wasn't much of a list yet. But it was growing. He pulled out his badge and gun and shut them in his drawer, the weight of Gibbs' badge a comfort where it was still hidden inside his back pocket. He didn't think too hard about the reasons behind bringing it with him to the office. No one else needed to know it was there.

He was just about to sit when McGee came around the corner. He saw Tony and immediately pounced. "Director wants to see you. As soon as you get in," he added unnecessarily.

Tony refrained from rolling his eyes. Nothing like being thrown to the wolves before eight a.m. "And a good morning to you too, Eager McBeaver." He glanced at McGee, his face impassive, and McGee had the good grace to blush before mumbling a 'good morning' in return. Tony stepped around the desk and headed toward the stairs in a resigned fashion.

Better to get this over with. His would probably be the shortest team leadership to go down in NCIS history. He hadn't really expected any different.

When he came back down twenty-five minutes later, his mood had taken a definite turn for the worse, but he was still team leader. He noticed Ziva had finally arrived. A quick glance at his watch told him she was at least fifteen minutes late. She'd never have tried that with Gibbs.

He made a quick decision and grabbed his chair, pulling it out from behind his desk to the center of the bullpen. "Ziva, McGee," he snapped out, "bring your chairs over here."

They both gave him a skeptical look but did as he asked.

Once they were settled, Ziva spoke. "What are we doing?"

"Well, campers, we need to have a little meeting. A campfire, if you must."

Ziva looked doubtful. "We are going camping?"

Tony tilted his head and looked at her in exasperation. "No, we're not going camping."

"And there is no fire," she pointed out.

Tony's nod was exaggerated. "That is correct."

"So how is it we are having a campfire?"

Tony drew in a deep breath and exhaled slowly through his nose. "It's a campfire because I say it is! I just need to talk to both of you and I don't want to be shouting across the room, okay?"

Ziva sat up straighter, looking slightly offended. "Touchy," she said primly. "Okay."

McGee wisely kept silent.

Tony leaned in closer and the other two agents followed suit. "The Director," he began, attempting to keep his tone of voice from sounding overly snide, "has given us orders regarding our reports on the 'incident' last night. No hard copies. Email only, directly to me. I will make a few . . . adjustments," he hesitated, as if the word was distasteful, "before printing them for your signature, deleting them and forwarding them to the Director."

"We've been ordered to sit on what happened last night," McGee commented, his eyes going wide.

Tony said nothing, but merely nodded slowly.

McGee let out a low whistle, leaning back in his chair. "Gibbs won't like it."

Tony's eyes narrowed fractionally, causing the younger agent to squirm slightly. "Gibbs isn't here," he reminded him needlessly.

"Yeah, I know, but . . ." The glare he received from DiNozzo was reminiscent enough of Gibbs that McGee choose not to finish that thought.

Tony continued as if McGee had never interrupted. "That is how you are to handle your official reports of last night's incident," he said formally. He paused, leaning in and lowering his voice even further. "Unofficially, you will type up the events exactly as they happened, recalling in detail everything you saw and/or heard relating to the explosion of the Cape Fear. When finished, you will print them out, give me the only copy and then delete the file. Clear?"

Ziva gave him a look of understanding. "You are going to keep them somewhere safe, yes? In case they are needed some day?"

"Yes."

She looked at him questioningly. "Why?"

He thought for a moment before deciding to give her an honest answer. "It's what Gibbs would do," he stated flatly and stood, clearly indicating their campfire was over.

The three agents returned to their respective desks and began working quietly. Tony gave it five minutes before one of them would ask, and his money was on Ziva. Exactly four minutes and forty-seven seconds later, the question came, and he smiled to himself.

"Have you heard from him?" Her voice was quiet.

Tony shook his head, not elaborating further.

"Perhaps we should call him. Just to make sure he's okay. Or perhaps we should stop by his house."

"He's not there," the accented voice carried into the bullpen as Ducky joined them.

"What do you mean?" McGee asked.

"I mean he's not home," Ducky responded. "I drove him to the airport this morning. I'm afraid Jethro is off to . . . "

"To Mexico," Tony finished for him resignedly.

"Why, yes, Anthony," the elderly doctor said in surprise. "How did you know?"

Tony's answer was short. "Franks."

Ducky nodded his head sadly. "Indeed."

Tony turned back to his computer, determined to finish his report. Both his reports. The one for the Director, and the one for Gibbs. He'd hold on to them until the senior agent returned. Because Gibbs was coming back. Tony just knew it.

He would wait.

~0~

Tony pulled out the key he'd had for years. This was the first time he'd ever had to use it.

To his knowledge, this door had never been locked.

He stepped inside, noting with some relief that the sparse furnishings still resided in the rooms, before he realized it had barely been twenty-four hours since Gibbs had left. Even Gibbs would have a difficult time packing and removing everything in that time.

Still, the presence of the furnishings, the jackets hanging on the rack in the entryway, and the pillow that always resided on the couch brought him comfort. It reaffirmed his belief that Gibbs would be back.

He hadn't called him yet, determined to give him a few more days before checking in. The older man needed that. He may have said he'd gotten his memory back, but Tony could see there were still holes there even in the short time they'd been together. He wondered vaguely what it was like, to have lost so much time, so many memories; to have had to re-learn things about dates and events that he'd known without hesitation before. He knew Gibbs had spent hours watching the news in the hospital, trying to catch up without having any knowledge of the things that had happened to bridge the gap. It had to have been overwhelming, even for Gibbs.

Tony wasn't really sure what he was doing here. He'd told himself he was only coming to check the mail, but he knew Gibbs had anything of importance delivered to the office, where he had spent far more of his hours. There was nothing in the mailbox, and he wondered if Gibbs had stopped his mail, or if another of his teammates had beaten him to it. It was nearly midnight. It had taken him far longer to wade through the paperwork that was suddenly dropped in his lap than he'd been expecting, and he'd stayed at the office long after McGee and Ziva had left.

He walked into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. It was as empty as he had expected it to be. Shutting the door, he glanced at the counter where something caught his eye. He stopped, disbelieving, and then forced himself to walk over and pick it up, prove to himself that it really was what he thought it was. He held it in his hand and turned it over, shaking his head sadly.

_Gibbs' cell._

Tony tried to work out what it meant that the older man had left it behind, but all his thoughts came back to the same obvious truth. _He's not just leaving NCIS behind. He's leaving us too._

For the first time since Gibbs had left, the finality of the act struck him, and he placed a hand on the counter in front of him to steady himself. This was real. It had really happened. Gibbs had truly left them. Not only left them, but left them with no way to contact him if they needed him.

It hurt, more than he wanted to admit.

Tony tossed the cell back onto the counter, refraining from throwing it against the wall as he wanted to do. He turned on his heel and headed directly for the basement, hurrying down the stairs, past the step he considered his – the one he'd sat on so many times after hours, sharing conversation and pizza while Gibbs had worked on his boat.

He walked up to the boat, pulling back the marine green tarp that hung over the ribs and ran his hand reverently over the wood, going with the grain as Gibbs had taught him, and tried to fight the anger and fear that had gotten their grip into him moments before. So Gibbs left his phone behind. So Tony had no way of reaching him. It didn't mean anything. It didn't mean he wasn't coming back.

He noticed the chipped white mug sitting on the workbench and went to pick it up, reaching for the bottle on the shelf above him. He poured himself a liberal dose of bourbon and swallowed it in one gulp, trying hard not to cough. That stuff was nasty – definitely an acquired taste. He poured another, taking the mug with him, and went and sat on the board that ran under the boat before lying down and staring up at the ribs above him. Things didn't really look any different from this angle, but it wasn't totally uncomfortable.

He waited.

~0~

It was four-fifteen when Tony got to the office the next morning. He hadn't meant to fall asleep under the boat. Lord knows, he had given Gibbs a hard time often enough about doing so. But the bourbon had relaxed him, and he hadn't slept in nearly forty-eight hours. Waking there at three a.m., he had dragged himself to his feet, turning off the lights and locking up before heading back to his apartment for a shower and change of clothes.

He sat at his desk now, the lights in the bullpen dimmed, and he reflected on how much he enjoyed working late at night, when things were quiet and interruptions were few. With the increase in his workload that he expected with his new responsibilities, he had a feeling he'd be working in the dark a lot more often, both physically and metaphorically.

The hours passed quickly, and before he knew it, McGee was climbing off the elevator with a "Good morning, Tony."

"Probie," he acknowledged, leaning back in his chair and stretching his arms behind him until his back cracked. "How'd it go last night?" he asked, referring to the fact that Abby had spent the night in McGee's care.

"Eh," McGee answered, bobbing his head from side to side in a so-so fashion. "Ups and downs. She slept, though."

"Good job," Tony said, meaning it. He figured Abby would be back with him tonight, which was fine, but he wondered when she'd be ready to face the night on her own. Gibbs' leaving had rocked her world.

He refused to acknowledge that she wasn't the only one, and turned back to his work, smiling to himself when Ziva walked in five minutes later at exactly seven fifty-eight. It looked like today would be a good day.

And when he got a call from dispatch two hours later, giving him their first case, an embezzlement scandal, he smiled again.

~0~

It hit around two o'clock that afternoon, a wave of exhaustion that shouldn't have taken him by surprise given how little sleep he'd had in the past few days, and he found himself nodding off at his desk. Knowing it would hardly be appropriate for the team leader to kick his feet up onto his desk and lean back to catch forty winks, as he was accustomed to doing, he mentally shook himself awake. That worked for about five minutes.

He stood suddenly, feeling the need for fresh air. They'd spent the day reviewing the case, going over the facts and coming up with a few promising leads, including a suspect named Renny, of all things. He was waiting on McGee's computer magic and a warrant from legal before he could put things into action.

He noted with some surprise that McGee and Ziva followed his lead, standing and reaching automatically for their weapons.

"We are going somewhere?" Ziva asked, and it was hard not to see excitement in her eyes.

He waved them off with a casual "I'll be back," before he took the elevator down to ground level, heading out into the warm sunny day, and walking aimlessly down the street. When he came upon the coffee shop, it seemed the most natural thing in the world for him to head inside and place an order.

He walked back into the bullpen fifteen minutes later. If anyone thought his carrying a familiar white and green cup reminded them of their missing former team leader, no one commented on it, for which Tony was grateful. He took a sip of the black coffee and shuddered.

Next time he was getting hazelnut.

~0~

It had been a week. Exactly one week since Gibbs had handed him his badge and gun and told him '_You'll do.'_ Seven days. One hundred sixty eight hours. Ten thousand, eighty minutes without a single word from Gibbs, not one phone call or postcard to let them know he was still alive, not even a Mexican carrier pigeon.

Tony had carried that badge with him nearly all of those ten thousand minutes, as if it were a talisman that could keep him safe, keep him from failure. He pulled it out of his jacket pocket now and stood in his living room looking at it, much the same as he had the first night he'd brought Abby home.

He thought they'd weathered the worst of it. Abby was back to sleeping at her own apartment, and though she was hardly the cheerful, upbeat Abby of old, today he'd gone down to her lab and found her music playing in the background. It was much more quiet than usual, but at least it was a start.

Ziva had stopped challenging him at every opportunity, and even on occasion had responded to his orders without rolling her eyes. They'd gone to lunch today, the three of them, and he'd relaxed with them a bit.

Asked them how they were doing.

Listened when they told him.

It was good.

The Renny Grant case had shaped up to be an easy one, nearly open and shut, and Tony felt a great deal of satisfaction in knowing that those who had hoped for his failure would have to wait for another day.

He wasn't Gibbs.

But he was trying.

It seemed like he spent all his time doing everything he could to keep _his_ team together, to keep them focused, to be there for them when things started to unravel. And if he went home alone each night, long after the others had left the office, and quietly fell apart, well, that was hardly any concern of theirs, was it?

He rubbed his thumb over the picture once more before tossing the badge on the desk in his living room, near the picture of the team taken two years ago at the company picnic, right beside the candles he kept for romantic emergencies.

Maybe it was time to think about letting go.

TBC...


	5. Mexican Sunrise

_Chapter Four_

The Mexican sunrise was something Gibbs didn't think he could ever get tired of. Which was probably a good thing, as he had no plans to leave any time soon. He sat on the rocks a ways from Mike's house, cup of cooling coffee in his hand, and he felt the peace of watching the sun come up.

The mornings here were his favorite time of day, and he started them early, years of habit too hard to break. He'd sit here while the sun claimed its place in the sky, before heading out for his morning run. He enjoyed the quiet that came with it, the chance to be out on his own, away from Franks and the man's intuitive mind.

The first week he'd been here had been filled with sleeping and not much else, his body and his mind still needing a period of recuperation. As he healed and required less rest, it hadn't taken long for boredom to set in. Now, after several weeks down here, he was tanner and feeling more fit than he had in quite some time. His hair was longer, and the beard he refused to shave helped to hide the scars from the explosion. He found himself seeking out projects to do around the house, which thankfully was in quite a state of disrepair. Franks had enough tools to keep him busy, and he relished the chance to work with his hands, even if it wasn't on his beloved boat. Keeping his hands occupied had always kept his mind free and clear, and he needed that now more than ever.

Sometimes Mike would sit with him while he worked, but he never pushed for conversation. No, Franks was more than content to allow Gibbs his space, and for that Jethro would always be grateful. Coming down here to get away from it all was exactly what he needed. And the last thing he wanted was to be grilled about his reasons for leaving.

Especially when he didn't quite understand them himself.

He jumped off the rocks, tossing the rest of his coffee out and placing the cup in the sand. He stretched briefly before setting off down the beach at a comfortable jog.

He had told Mike what had happened with the Cape Fear. There'd been no surprise on the older man's face. Apparently Mike Franks had expected nothing less than for those in positions of power to have such a casual disregard for the lives of the men who served under them. It wasn't much of a comfort to know that Jethro was not alone in his disgust. He'd known that was true back in MTAC, fully aware of Tony's reaction behind him, the sight of the clenched fists and the look of disbelief the younger man had sported burned into his mind as Gibbs had turned and left the room, unable to watch the sight of the explosion. The loss of the Cape Fear was horrific enough. That their supervisors had knowingly allowed the loss of life on the Coast Guard frigate when those men could have been ordered off was something Gibbs would never come to terms with.

The thought of Tony and the rest of his team was one he had consciously pushed away during his first few weeks here. The memories still swarmed in his mind like a hive of angry bees, and he had little control over what popped in at any given moment. Many were too painful to take out and examine, but many were good too.

He had a hard time believing he could have actually managed to be happy after the loss of Shannon and Kelly. It felt like a betrayal. But if not happy, he'd at least been content, and his team and his job had everything to do with that. The job no longer made him happy. And it was one of life's horrible ironies that he couldn't have the team if he didn't have the job.

He wasn't sure they would see it that way. In fact, he was reasonably certain that DiNozzo and Abby and probably Ducky most certainly wouldn't. They could easily expect him to stick around D.C., even if he were no longer at NCIS. But there were too many memories attached to that house. It had taken everything in him to bury those memories once before and move on. He wasn't sure he could do it again.

So he ran.

~0~

Jethro was tired of Mike nagging him to get out instead of holing up on the beach like the hermit (a voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like DiNozzo piped in 'hermit _crab_,' but he ignored it) he so wanted to become. It was easier to just give in to Franks, just this once.

He kept fairly quiet on the drive to the cantina, listening to Mike go on about the local clientele and one waitress in particular. Jethro had no desire to sample the Mexican nightlife, but Franks had been after him since the day he arrived. He tried not to feel like he was being brought along to show and tell. If he had wanted conversation or companionship, he would have just stayed in D.C. DiNozzo could talk the ears off a mule, and often did. Never had he met anyone who had the gift for talking so much and saying so little with the possible exception of Abby. He'd recognized it in Tony early on in their friendship for the defensive mechanism it was – a way of deflecting those around him from getting to close to knowing the real Anthony DiNozzo. They may have gone about it different ways – Tony with his excess of words, and Gibbs with his lack of them – but their intent was the same.

A memory came unbidden of a night Tony had sat on the steps of his basement as Gibbs had worked on his boat, shoving pizza into his face and prattling on for hours about nothing. The chatter and the younger man's quick sense of humor had brought a smile to his face then, the memory did now. He realized there had been many nights such as that one.

Abby's chatter was more prolific. He loved her dearly, but the caffeine-induced frivolity often left his head aching with prolonged exposure. At least she never hesitated to share exactly what she was feeling at any given moment. In spite of growing up with deaf parents, or perhaps because of it, she had become one of the most verbose and guileless individuals he'd ever met.

Her hugs and constant upbeat manner had brought light to the darkest of his days with NCIS, and he felt freer to be the version of himself that Shannon and Kelly had known with her than with anyone else.

Ducky was another one who most definitely could run off at the mouth, telling stories and giving long-winded explanations. He definitely took the most roundabout ways to get to any point. He also never hesitated to give Jethro a piece of his mind when it was called for. There weren't many people willing to do that. Tony was one of the few others that had the balls to stand up to him, and it was one of the reasons Gibbs put up with his more than occasional juvenile antics.

McGee's chatter generally contained technical terms that left Gibbs' head spinning and caused him to snap at his youngest agent to keep him focused. He probably should head-slap him a bit more often, but that was something he generally reserved for DiNozzo. Tony wasn't as comfortable with physical displays or touches in the way that Abby was, and Gibbs had long ago realized that the head-slaps were a good compromise for the two of them – a chance for him to give release to the tactile side of his nature without going past the boundaries that had been instilled in a very young Anthony DiNozzo.

Ziva didn't chatter, but he smiled to himself as he thought of her frequent misuse of American idioms. He was half sure she did it just to drive Tony crazy.

He felt an unfamiliar pang in his heart, and was surprised to discover how much he missed them all. Even Palmer, with his penchant for saying the wrong thing at the wrong time, had brought a certain twinkle to Gibbs' eye because he was just too much fun to intimidate.

His thoughts had been thousands of miles away, and apparently Mike had noticed, for he had stopped talking and was studying Jethro intently.

Gibbs raised his eyebrow in a challenge, daring Franks to comment.

Being Franks, he jumped right in over Gibbs' unvoiced opposition. "You miss them, eh, Probie?"

Knowing Franks believed he was thinking of Shannon and Kelly, Gibbs nodded anyway. "Yeah, Mike, I do."

Franks pulled the truck up to the curb, turning off the engine, and smacked Jethro solidly on the arm as he gave a laugh. "Fear not, then, because I got something guaranteed to keep your mind from wandering." He held out his other hand proudly toward the unassuming building in front of them. "Welcome to my home away from home."

Gibbs studied the run-down looking building with its peeling yellow paint and made no effort to hide the skepticism he felt, which only caused Mike to laugh harder. "Come on, Gunny. There's beautiful women who'll fight each other to the death for a chance to wine and dine a fine American gentleman like yourself."

"Not interested, Mike."

"And that, Probie, is a damn shame. But maybe if I'm lucky, they'll take pity on me for being stuck with you." He pushed open the door and made his way into the cantina, grabbing a seat and starting up a conversation with the large, scruffy looking man behind the bar. Gibbs noticed that Mike never requested a drink, but one was immediately set in front of him nonetheless.

"Hola, Senor. Bienvenido a Jacks. ¿Qué puedo obtener para usted esta noche? Cerveza? Vino? ¿Yo?"

The voice was pleasant, coming unexpectedly from his left. It wasn't like Gibbs to allow anyone to sneak up on him, but it was no secret to him he was still off his game. The woman was young and quite attractive with a smile that lit up the room, and she bestowed it freely on him. Her long dark curls reminded him of Ziva, and he vaguely wished the young Israeli was with him now. Though he got the gist of what had been said, he would have appreciated her skills as a translator. His Spanish was a little rusty. Maybe he should have picked Moscow for his retirement.

"Cerveza, por favor."

"Es todo?" she asked, the disappointment obvious on her face, but it was the twinkle in her eye that let Gibbs know she was teasing, and he relaxed.

He let out half a laugh. "Oh, yeah," he affirmed, smiling at her. "Definitely es todo."

She shrugged, still smiling. "Too bad," she said, her accent just enough to be pleasing to the ear. "As Senor Mike would say, 'it's a damn shame'."

This time he laughed in earnest. "Trust me, you don't want to be quoting him."

She took his arm, leading him towards a table, and he was surprised at how comfortable he felt with her.

"You must be Gibbs," she deduced. "Mike has spoken of you often. I was beginning to wonder if you truly existed."

They reached the table and she pointed to a chair. He sat, and after grabbing two bottles of beer, she joined him, handing one to him.

"Senor Mike has told me much about you. Perhaps you will return the favor by telling me all the reasons I should stay away from him."

He caught Mike's gaze from across the room and winked at him, raising the bottle in a toast. Maybe coming here hadn't been such a bad idea after all. "Now _that_ would be my pleasure."

TBC...


	6. Ups and Downs

_Chapter Five_

Tony stood in front of the Director's desk, his arms at his side, and tried not to feel as if he were back in military school, called into the Headmaster's office for something he may or may not have done. She held the file out to him, and he hesitated in taking it from her, his reluctance plain on his face.

Director Shepherd studied him for a moment, taking in the tension around his eyes, the fact that his normally ready-made smile had been seen less and less these past few days, and she decided to take a gentler approach. She knew all too well what it meant to his team that Gibbs had left the way he had. And she suspected that it had hit none of them harder than it had the young man in front of her.

"It's been three weeks, Tony," she pointed out.

"Yes, ma'am."

"I think you're off to a great start. Gibbs was right to put the team in your care."

Tony eyed her with open skepticism, unwilling to trust her blatent approval, and so he said nothing.

Jenny sighed. She'd known this wouldn't be easy for any of them, but she also knew she had to stand her ground. "You need a fourth. She needs the experience of being a field agent. It's a good fit."

"With all due respect, ma'am, if we need a fourth, it should be someone who already _has_ some field experience. The last thing we need right now is to be breaking in some wet-behind-the-ears probie."

She narrowed her eyes at him, changed tactics, and went for the kill. "Are you saying you're not up for the job?"

Tony hated that she'd backed him into a corner like this, but he kept that emotion off his face, already knowing he'd have to give in to her demands. He wondered how often Gibbs had felt this manipulated, and he stood down. "No, Director," he capitulated, his tone saccharine, and tried not to let the fact that she'd won this round grind him down. "I'm sure it will be fine." He reached out for the folder, taking it from her hand, and cocked his head at her. "If that's all?"

She thought about giving him some words of wisdom, or encouragement, and decided he wouldn't hear them if she did. "Yes, Tony. That's all."

"Thank you, ma'am." He turned on his heel and strode out of the room, closing the door behind him.

Once out on the balcony, he slowed, heading over to the edge. Leaning his arms on the railing, he looked out over the bullpen, taking in the unused desk next to Ziva's that still stood untouched, the empty coffee cup forever frozen in place. Coming to a decision, he turned and headed down the stairs. He tossed Agent Lee's file onto his workstation and kept moving until he was in McGee's space. Hitching up a leg, he sat on the corner of his desk.

McGee looked up at him, trying to curb the annoyance he felt at Tony encroaching on his personal space. "Need something?"

"Got a question for you, Probie."

Tim looked at him expectantly as nothing more was said. "Are you going to say it out loud, or am I supposed to guess?"

Tony gave out an insincere laugh. "No, as fun as that would be, I don't think so. Here's the deal – you're my Senior Field Agent."

Tim fought back a smile at the confirmation of his new status.

"The Director has assigned us a new team member," Tony continued, noticing the raising of Tim's eyebrows. "Agent Lee." Tony cringed, trying not to think of Rule #13. Gibbs' rules, not DiNozzo's rules. Although that one should probably have a spot on his list too. Nobody liked lawyers, even if you hadn't been divorced three times.

"You're kidding."

Tony looked at him blandly.

"You're not kidding. Okay. Agent Lee. Wow. Don't quite know what to say, Tony"

"Yeah. Me neither. My question for you, though, is whether you want to stay here at your desk, or move your gear to mine. Choice is yours."

"Where are you going to sit?"

Tony looked over at the empty desk on the other side of the bullpen, but didn't answer.

"Oh." Tim thought on that for a while. "You sure?"

Tony sighed. "No. But I'm sure as hell not going to let Lee sit there." Tony couldn't put his finger on it, but there was something about Agent Lee that bugged him. He figured it couldn't hurt to keep an eye on her.

He walked to his own workspace, began the process of moving his gear to the desk across the way, and tried not to feel like he was betraying a friend.

~0~

"Federal Agents! Open the door!" Tony stood to one side of the wooden panel door with his arms extended, weapon ready, and prayed to a God he wasn't sure he believed in that today was not The Day. The Day was one Tony dreaded with everything in him – The Day that he screwed the pooch, mucked up big time, proved everyone who ever doubted him as Gibbs' replacement right. The Day was one where something went horrifically wrong and cost him a member of his team. The Day was when he went back and told Abby how sorry he was, but that Ziva or McGee or even Agent Lee wouldn't be coming back. It was something he dreaded every time they drew their weapons. It hadn't come yet. But he figured it was only a matter of time.

Tony could wait.

The home of Staff Sergeant William T. Nicholson, Afghanistan Supply Liaison Officer and suspected gun runner, seemed rather innocuous from the outside, with its white picket fence and row of purple and pink impatiens that lined the front walkway. There was no response to the knocking, no sound of shuffling within that indicated someone was making a last ditch effort to escape the judgment headed their way. Tony gave Ziva a brief nod, watching as she holstered her weapon and pulled out her lock picks. He raised his left arm and spoke briefly into his cuff, telling McGee and Lee to enter through the back on his mark. He never lowered his weapon, and he kept his eyes and ears open for anything unexpected, just as Gibbs had taught him.

He waited while Ziva quickly put her picks away and drew her weapon again, then he pushed the door open to the right, identifying themselves once again. With the ease born of repetition, they cleared the house room by room. Only when he was one hundred percent positive that their suspect was not currently in residence did Tony give the all clear before placing his weapon into the holster beneath his left arm. He noticed Ziva watching him.

"What?"

"That is not your normal weapon," she stated.

"No, it's not," he answered, voice devoid of its normal good humor. Or what used to be normal anyway. Not so much, these days.

Her eyes narrowed shrewdly, and she nodded her head in the direction of the firearm. "That is Gibbs' gun."

Tony internally rolled his eyes, stiffening ever so slightly. "Yeah. So?"

She closed the distance between them, standing to her full height and attempting to look him directly in the eye. "You are not Gibbs."

Tony held her gaze for several seconds, biting back all he wanted to say, about how there was no need to say it aloud, no need to point it out yet again. They did that from time to time, Ziva and McGee. It was as if they wanted to make sure he knew that they knew the obvious truth. As if the constant questioning of his orders and second-guessing of his decisions weren't enough. They wanted him to be sure to understand. He wasn't Gibbs, and in their eyes, he never would be.

Tony took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Yeah. I know," he said, and then he turned away.

~0~

Tony's cell phone chirped where it sat on his desk, and he pulled himself away from the report he was typing to check the incoming text from Ziva.

'_Need you in Abby's lab. 911.'_

He grabbed his weapon and hustled over toward the elevator, pushing the button to go down. When he saw that it wasn't immediately available, he turned and hightailed it down the stairs instead. He threw the door open to the hallway outside the lab and paused, noticing immediately the absence of music, and another sound he could all too easily identify these days, and he breathed a sigh of relief. He adjusted his pace, knowing now that the emergency was not of the life-threatening variety, and he made a mental promise to discuss with Ziva the proper use of '911'. He saw her as she poked her head out of the lab, obviously searching for him, and he looked over her shoulder, not seeing Abby anywhere.

"What?" he snapped at her, annoyed.

Ziva scowled at him. "Abby. She needs you."

Tony relaxed his shoulders and ran a hand through his hair. "What happened this time?" he asked, his voice softer.

"I believe she said 'her babies had called', but you were not there."

Tony swore to himself. He should have known. He _had_ known. Not ten minutes earlier, he'd felt something in his gut that told him to go down and check with Abby, but he'd put it off to make a phone call. Never again. Next time he got that feeling, he'd listen.

Time to do some damage repair.

He walked into the lab, heading directly for the corner next to the refrigerator that seemed to be her favorite spot of late. He found her there, scrunched up on the floor hugging Bert tight to her chest, evidence of tears on her face. He slid down the wall next to her, raising his arm and pulling her in tight, glad when she laid her head on his shoulder.

"You were late."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"Gibbs was never late."

"I know, Abs. Won't happen again."

She looked up at him through her wet eyelashes. "Better not, mister. Took me months to train Gibbs. I'm not starting over with you, got it?"

"Got it. I'll do better. I promise."

"Alright, then."

They sat there in companionable silence for several minutes, content to give and receive support from each other, and once again, Tony thanked the Lord for putting this precious woman in his life. Friendship had never come as easily with anyone as it did with Abby. He didn't have to put on any pretenses with her. She knew all his flaws, all his weaknesses – and she loved him anyway. It was humbling.

"Dinner tonight?" he asked her. "My treat. You know. To make up for being late."

She scrutinized his face, looking for signs of sincere repentance. Apparently finding what she sought, she nodded. "Deal."

He rubbed his hand absently up and down her arm, smiling when she snuggled deeper into his embrace, the stuffed animal rasping out its noise with the movement.

"Tony?" she asked, her voice shaky.

"Yeah, Abs?"

"You still think he's coming back, right?"

Tony took only a split second to think about it. The doubts were there, but they were fleeting. He hadn't spent five years on the man's six, anticipating his every need, able to nearly read his thoughts, without having a pretty damn good idea of the way Gibbs' mind worked. When the older man was ready, he'd be back. He squeezed her tighter.

"Yeah, Abs."

~0~

Tony took his hat off and scratched his head in frustration. While it was true that the body of the Navy Lieutenant wasn't getting any deader, the high winds they'd been dealing with today were wreaking havoc with his crime scene.

"Agent Lee!" he bellowed.

The dark-haired young agent popped her head out of the back of the truck, looking like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming semi-truck. The look was so reminiscent of McGee in his first year with the team that Tony had to bite back a smile. There were times he loved the fact that he terrorized his new junior agent. He began to understand exactly the joy Gibbs must have gotten in living up to his second 'b'.

"Yes, sir?" she asked hesitantly.

Tony walked over to the back of the truck. "This crime scene isn't going to sketch itself, Agent Lee. Do you think you might join us any time soon?"

"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir. It's just, I found the sketchpads and pencils, but I can't find the LDMD."

Tony climbed into the back of the rig and pulled out the drawer on the far side from where the sketchpads had been. He reached in pulled out the laser distance measuring device, handing it to the probie. "You mean this?" he asked, smiling artificially.

"Yes, sir. Thank you. Sir." She exited the truck, muttering under her breath about how she should never have been expected to look there anyway, and moved to begin sketching.

Tony watched her go, his eyes narrowing in thought. She had a point. It would make more sense to keep all the sketching supplies in the same location. In fact, there were a lot of improvements that could be made to the van in the interest of efficiency.

He made a mental note to work with his team on re-organizing the van as soon as this case was wrapped up.

~0~

DiNozzo couldn't help whistling a tune as he made his way out of the Director's office once again. His initial distrust and uncertainty of the woman was fading. Now that he reported directly to her, he found he appreciated her style of leadership. She wasn't reluctant to tell him when he was doing a good job, for one thing. After years of killing himself to earn even a tid-bit of positive feedback from Gibbs, it was a refreshing change of pace.

Gibbs had never been particularly effusive, and Tony could count on one hand the number of "Atta-boys" he'd earned over the years. He'd long ago learned not to be jealous of Abby and the constant praise, not to mention kisses on the cheek, she'd gotten from Gibbs. He gave a little snort at the thought of Gibbs kissing him on the cheek.

Still, while he'd mostly known where he stood with Gibbs, thanks in part to the headslaps, it was nice to have a commanding officer who went out of their way to build you up instead of tear you down.

Being chosen for this undercover assignment was a prime example of the faith she had in him. True, the assignment seemed tailor-made for Anthony DiNozzo: seek out the beautiful, intelligent, independent daughter of an international arms dealer and sweep her off her feet. But it was still the idea that Jenny trusted his ability as an agent that bolstered his confidence.

He was excited about the assignment. It seemed easy enough, and there was really little chance it would even come to anything.

He just wished there weren't a small, niggling part of him that would feel better if he could talk the whole thing over with Gibbs.

~0~

"Gear up," he said, walking around the partition into the bullpen. "We've got a dead marine."

It stopped him cold, the similarity that even he couldn't miss, and he wondered when exactly it had happened. It had snuck up on him, as unprepared as he was, but there was no denying it any longer. The many years he'd spent under Gibbs' tutelage, watching the older man's every move, learning from him, wanting so much to b_e just like him_, and it had happened while he wasn't even aware of it.

What scared him just a little bit more was that his team did not react to this momentous occasion with any awareness of the fact. The words had come from his mouth, and his team, his people, scrambled to do exactly as he asked.

_They were gearing up. _

In fact, they were already halfway to the elevator, and he still stood in front of his desk, holding his coffee with his jaw metaphorically on the floor.

Giving himself a mental headslap, he hustled around his desk, grabbing his own gear, and moved after his team, who were waiting expectantly for him to lead them.

He thought that maybe he could get used to this.

~O~

"Ack! Move it, Probette. Back behind the desk. Think of this area," he said, moving his arms to indicate a perimeter around his personal working space, "as having a force-field. A wall in the temple to the most holy of sanctuaries. The curtain separating Dorothy from the Great Wizard." He made shooing motions, forcing Agent Lee to stand on the other side of the desk.

"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir."

Man, he loved watching her fall all over herself.

"So, what is it that needs my oh-so-urgent attention, grasshopper?"

"McGee, sir. He just called up from Abby's lab, and says he needs you down there. He, uh, he sounded a little frantic."

Tony stood gracefully and moved toward the elevator. The episodes with Abby had dwindled down to about one per week, and she'd already had her crying jag on Tuesday. Facing another one two days later was not good.

Entering the lab, he was surprised by the sight that met his eyes. Instead of finding her slumped in a corner, sobbing quietly, his favorite lab tech was bouncing off the walls. Literally. She looked like a slightly darker version of the Energizer Bunny on speed when she noticed his arrival.

"Boss-man! Oh my God, you look so_ hot_ today! I love that suit. It totally brings out the color of your eyes, which are this really amazing shade of green. Except when they're not. Because sometimes they look kind of like they're hazel, which is kind of weird. Except hazel eyes are the ones that most often shift color, because there's only a moderate amount of melanin in the iris's anterior border. Sometimes they can even look brown, but yours never do. Just green or hazel though. Not blue. Definitely not blue. Which is a good thing. I like green eyes these days." She paused for breath. "What was I saying?"

Tony shot a sideways glance at Tim, who had been keeping himself at arms distance from the forensic scientist out of fear of being inadvertently trampled. Tim looked back at Tony and shrugged.

"Abby," Tony began, moving slowly toward her as if she were a particularly fearsome wild animal, "how much caffeine did you have today?" He kept his arms stretched out in a non-threatening manner, not relaxing until he was able to firmly grip her shoulders.

"No more than usual! Just three Caf-Pows! and two Red Bulls. Why do you ask?"

A quick glance at the clock on the wall told him it was nearing eleven in the morning, and she wasn't lying; that was her usual pre-lunch caffeine intake. He looked down at her table, noticing the small white powder dusting her workbench, trailing a finger through it, and the answer suddenly clicked.

"You overdid it on the powdered donuts again, didn't you Abs?" His voice was only mildly reproachful. "How many did you have?"

She looked immediately contrite, like a child caught with a hand in the cookie jar. "Just two," she mumbled.

"Two donuts?" he asked, his eyes narrowing.

"Two boxes."

Tony whistled softy. "Impressive."

She bounced up and down, her pigtails flopping with the movement. "Thank you!"

"Need you to ease up a little on the sugar, okay?" He returned his hands to her shoulders, looking her straight in the eye. "You're scaring the probies."

"Ha! Agent Lee should be scared! She's like, what, four feet tall? Comes from eating like a rabbit, you know."

"Yes, I've heard that. But I was talking about McGee."

Abby giggled, while McGee just scowled at him.

He pulled her in for a gentle hug. "What am I going to do with you?"

Abby lowered her voice seductively. "Oh, Tony, I can think of many, _many_ things. . ."

~0~

He was nearly at the end of his rope, and he tried not to curse Gibbs again for the man's need for a Mexican hiatus. Keeping up with Abby's mood swings was bad enough, but his team was driving him crazy. If he wasn't dodging Ziva's frequent barbs and continued attempts to emasculate him, he was keeping a wary eye on Lee as she pranced around him like a skittish colt.

But the worst had to be McGee. Tony wondered to himself exactly what was going on in the former probie's head. Though the transition during these past few months hadn't necessarily been smooth, Tony had begun to think things were finally on an even keel. He was doing a good job balancing his new duties as team leader with his position as the Director's new go-to guy, and the undercover assignment was off to a great start.

McGee had come into his own as the team's new Senior Field Agent. Perhaps that was the problem. Tony had hoped that the promotion to senior agent on the most prestigious MCRT in the D.C. office would have been enough to satisfy the junior agent's need to better himself. But McGee had always been ambitious. Maybe even too much for his own good, and Tony found they were butting heads more often than not over the best way to do things. Coming from two totally different backgrounds, that wasn't hard to understand.

McGee's tendency towards academics, book learning and computers differed vastly from Tony's street experience. That was hardly a problem, except that the younger agent tended to discredit Tony's street smarts in favor of his own fancy degrees. They'd had it out yesterday at a crime scene. McGee had given him crap about Tony ordering Lee to interview the witness instead of him. He'd argued that as Senior Field Agent, he shouldn't have been relegated to bagging and tagging.

Knowing that McGee never would have questioned Gibbs' orders like that, Tony had finally snapped. He dragged Tim off to a separate room, shutting the door behind him before he backed the younger man up against the wall and got right in his face, letting him know in no uncertain terms exactly what he thought about McGee's insubordination.

He went on to point out their witness was a woman close to Lee's age who was attending the same university that Lee had and who was enrolled as a pre-law major. It only made sense for Lee to do the interview, since they already had a common starting point.

To his credit, Tim had looked properly chastised. In truth, he was somewhat shocked whenever he saw this intense, no-nonsense side of Tony. The normally affable goof-ball of the old days was around less and less frequently, though there was no doubting that Tony's leadership style was uniquely his own. It was only in moments like these that McGee got it – that he realized just how much of a burden Tony had been under these past few months.

He dropped his eyes, grateful that Tony had pulled him aside rather than reaming him out in front of witnesses. He still couldn't help his slightly petulant reply. "You could have just told me that."

Tony shook his head, his expression hard. "I shouldn't have to," he pointed out as he turned and left the room.

That had been yesterday, and McGee had remained subdued for the remainder of the day. Now, as they sat in their campfire, reviewing facts about the case, Tony couldn't help feeling just a bit of satisfaction. These slightly unorthodox round-table discussions had worked out well for him, and he took pride in that. As Ziva finished rattling off the history on their victim, Tony sat back in his chair, steepling his fingers in front of him. "Okay, people. Let's make this happen. Ziva . . ."

"I will check with Abby on the results of the ballistic testing and the hairs that were found on the body."

"Lee . . ."

"I'll keep working on obtaining us that warrant."

"McGee . . ."

Tim's head jerked up at the sound of his name, and he realized he'd been drifting. "Um . . ."

Tony rolled his eyes. "Get me a background check on the witness."

"You want a background on the _witness_?" Tim asked, surprised.

Tony stared at him, his face a mask of neutrality. Something about the witness's statement didn't ring true. Her story about not knowing the victim seemed decidedly hinky, but he shouldn't have to explain that to McGee. "Something you want to ask?" he said, his voice low, challenging the other man.

Tim only took a second to recall yesterday's conversation and the fact that Tony had obviously seen what he had missed. He could recall countless times Tony had made intuitive leaps while working under Gibbs that the rest of them had never seen, their esteemed team leader included. Deciding it was never to late to learn from his mistakes, he stood quickly. "Nope. On it, Boss."

If the smile that lit up Tony's face was any indication, he'd definitely made the right call.

~O~

Tony stared into his closet, debating what to wear. His favorite Armani shirt called out to him, but he hesitated. He was glad to be home, but he was still feeling the effects of jetlag. The securities conference had only been half of his time away. The rest had been spent trailing one of La Granouille's top men, hoping to stumble upon the arms dealer himself, but that had turned out to be a bust.

He smiled as he thought of the gifts for his team that were in the bag by the door. Getting the lederhosen for Ziva had been a stroke of genius, especially since he'd never left the country. Gotta love eBay.

He reached into the closet, passing over the Armani in favor of something more casual. In his first days as team leader, he'd worn his very best (which was very, _very_ good) as a shield against the looks and whispers of the many who thought he wasn't the right person for the job. If you look good, people not only expect the best from you, they get fooled into seeing what might not be there. That logic had carried him through some tough times over the years.

These days, he felt more comfortable in his own skin. Stepping into Gibbs' shoes and finding that his feet were the same size had done wondrous things for his admittedly fragile ego, though those who didn't know him well thought that his ego was substantial enough already.

He pulled out a lightweight brown polo. He could feel it. Today was going to be a good day.

He'd even ditch the tie.

TBC...


	7. Redeyes And Readjustments

"_Well, probably because if I left McGee in charge, she wouldn't be on the FBI's Ten Most Wanted List." (Gibbs)_

"_But you do remember . . ." (DiNozzo)_

"_That I left you in charge? Yeah, I remember I left you in charge, DiNozzo. What I forgot is your taste in coffee – it stinks."_

"_I like sugar. It's my weakness."_

A/N: Events of this chapter happen during and after the episodes "Shalom" and "Escaped." Much of the dialogue is taken directly from the episodes. My apologies - it's necessary to get the story where it needs to go. No copyright infringement intended.

_Chapter Six_

Tony worked to keep himself from stealing glances over at Gibbs as he stood in the familiar basement. It was hard not to smile, not to reach out and touch the older man, just to confirm that he was really here and not thousands of miles away on some God-forsaken Mexican beach. He definitely had the beach bum look down, but Tony had to admit that the longer hair and the beard over the tanned skin worked for Gibbs. He'd never seen him so relaxed. Or seen him smile quite as easily.

It was totally freaking him out.

It had been seamless, really. Walking down those basement steps had been like walking back in time four months. There had been no hesitation. No stumbling over greetings or making small talk. They'd both jumped right back into it, their focus devoted to the case , their thought patterns aligned once again. Even to the point of finishing each other's sentences. Almost as if the explosion and the resulting amnesia had never happened.

Until he'd called Tony "McGee."

The gibe about leaving McGee in charge had hurt. Tony thought he'd covered it well, but underneath, another chink was made in the DiNozzo self-worth. He had done everything he could to pick up the pieces of the disaster that was made by this man after Gibbs had turned tail and run. It had been four long months of silence. No affirmation uttered after a simple, "You'll do." And only a minute and a half after being back in the presence of his mentor, and he's cut down; put into his place as swiftly as if the four months had never existed.

His hurt bled through into his words to Ziva when she tried to point out that NCIS should not be involved in her current situation. He couldn't help it, he snapped at her.

"I don't remember asking for your opinion, Officer David, " he ground out.

She turned on him immediately, running to Gibbs as if he were a teacher capable of dealing with the schoolyard bully who was picking on her. "You see? He's been completely insufferable since you left."

"That true, Tony?" Gibbs asked, rubbing a hand over his beard.

Tony kept his eyes on Ziva, his frosty glare expressing his supreme annoyance with her condescending attitude. "When I need to be," he reluctantly agreed.

"Yeah? Huh." Gibbs turned back to the laptop on the workbench. "Maybe you were the right man for the job."

As Tony turned disbelieving eyes towards Gibbs, he caught the look of pride behind the small smile on the older man's face, and it did wonders for his fragile ego. That was a look he'd worked long and hard for in the past, one that he sought above all others. It was the one that told him he'd done well, and it hadn't gone unnoticed. There were days Tony felt he'd be willing to give up a week's pay just to see that look on Gibbs' face, and it settled the demons in his gut now like nothing else could. He looked over Gibbs' shoulder as the former team leader explained the plan, and got ready to get to work.

~ 0 ~

Tony checked his cell phone for the seventeenth time in the last ten minutes. Seeing nothing, he flipped it shut in annoyance.

What the hell had he been thinking?

It was _his_ responsibility to go with Ziva, not Gibbs. She was _his_ agent, part of _his_ team. But no, he handed that task off to Gibbs without a second's thought. It had just been too damn easy to slide back into the man's shadow and let him handle things however he saw fit. Gibbs stepped right back in and assumed control as if he had never left. And Tony _let_ him. He should have known better.

And now there had been no word from either of them for hours.

Tony almost appreciated Sacks being the one to inform him of the explosion and the fact they believed that Ziva had been in the house when it went up. Personal differences aside, Sacks had delivered the news in a straightforward manner that Tony needed right now. The FBI agent firmly believed Ziva David was dead; blown to bits in front of his own eyes. Tony knew something he didn't, though.

He knew Ziva was with Leroy Jethro Gibbs. In his personal experience, that fact alone had made the difference between life and death more times than Tony could count.

Tony's gut didn't believe they were dead.

But he couldn't stop the niggling fear.

He checked his phone once more, slamming it shut again and moving away from the elevators.

Ducky saw the recently appointed MCRT leader approaching and fell in step with him. It was obvious Tony was beating himself up over the latest developments in the case, and he intended to put a stop to that immediately.

Tony acknowledged the doctor's presence without slowing his stride. "Not good, Ducky."

"You did manage to call, didn't you?"

"I got Gibbs' voicemail. I don't think he ever learned how to use it."

"And the number Abby has for Ziva?"

"Not picking up."

"Well, there's only one thing for you to do," Ducky stated practically.

Tony rounded the corner and started up the steps towards the Director's office. "I know – let the Director know they're probably dead and resign for disobeying a direct order."

"You will do nothing of the sort, Anthony DiNozzo."

The use of his full name and that tone of voice were far too reminiscent of his father's ire in his growing up years for Tony to ignore. He came to a full stop, turning around and slowly descending the stairs.

"And why is that?"

"Because the man that did this is still out there, and I'll be damned if we let him get away with it!"

Tony folded his arms across his chest in a self-defensive posture he wasn't even aware of. He'd had enough of the constant questioning and second-guessing of everyone around him. No one doubted him more than he doubted himself. His voice was low with frustration as he pinned the doctor with his gaze. "What would Gibbs do, right? I've got a bulletin for you, Ducky: I. Am. Not. Gibbs."

Ducky stood unflinching in the face of Tony's ire. "No. You're not. Gibbs _quit_," he pointed out. "_You're_ still here."

In that moment, Tony didn't think he'd ever appreciated the elderly doctor more. Throughout this entire four-month nightmare, aside from Palmer, Ducky had been the _only_ one to constantly show his support of Tony's new role. The quiet confidence in the words of the English gentleman did more to restore Tony's equilibrium than anything he'd said to date. Ducky was willing to put into words what they'd all avoided saying this entire time. Gibbs _had_ quit. He'd left Tony holding the baton, and Tony had done his best not to stumble, but to keep them all in the race. He knew now that at least one person had appreciated his efforts.

Still, the doubts lingered, and he gave voice to them, hopeful that Ducky would have some insight to the answers Tony was seeking. "Why wasn't I with Ziva? I turned over my responsibility to him without even thinking about it."

Ducky hesitated a moment before trying to placate the young man in front of him. "Gibbs is one of the most capable agents. . . "

"Was, Ducky. You didn't see him. I mean, it didn't even _look_ like Gibbs. I think he went Native down there."

"Uh, Tony," Ducky tried to interrupt.

Tony continued on, oblivious to anything but his memories of his previously clean-cut, straight as an arrow marine boss. "I mean, his hair is all long and crazy looking and he's got this scraggly beard. He looks like a pirate or something. His eyes are all blood-shot – probably from drinking hooch from morning 'til night with Franks."

The voice he heard coming from his left side was one that he feared he might never hear again.

"They call it a red-eye for a reason."

Tony refused to look, not sure he could trust his hearing, until a hand smacked him gently on the shoulder.

"The flight I was on all night to get here," Gibbs explained patiently.

Tony turned then, and he couldn't help it. His reaction was instinctive and came straight from his gut. At this moment, he didn't give a damn what either of the men with him thought. He was so damn glad to see Gibbs standing next to him still in one piece that he reached out, putting his arms around the man in a one-sided hug.

"Gibbs! Alright. Good. Alright. Thank God."

Tony stepped back just as quickly. It hadn't escaped his attention that Gibbs hadn't hugged him back, but at least the man had a smile on his face.

"Thank Ziva. I've already been blown up twice, Tony. Don't think I've got a third one in me."

DiNozzo couldn't help it, he flinched as Gibbs dangled a ring of keys in his face. Smile or not, he wouldn't put it past the marine to deck him for the outright display of affection. He was relieved when Gibbs seemed more interested in making sure the evidence he and Ziva had obtained got where it needed to go, and he hurried off to the parking garage before he could make a bigger fool of himself, mentally berating himself the entire way.

He'd revealed way too much. Gibbs was no fool. He could put the pieces together. Tony had spent the past four months doing everything he could to appear confident and ready to take on the role he'd been unwillingly thrust into, and in one moment of absolute weakness, he'd revealed exactly how much he still relied on Leroy Jethro Gibbs.

He knew Ducky would be willing to overlook the momentary lapse, but he wasn't so sure about Gibbs. Suddenly the thought of the boss heading back to Mexico wasn't such a bad thing.

~ 0 ~

_Damn the bastard anyway._

It wasn't like Tony hadn't known. He had. He knew, almost from the moment that he first laid eyes on Gibbs down in his basement a few short days ago that his former boss was not here in D.C. to stay. It wasn't time yet. Gibbs wasn't ready. He got that, he really did.

But the son of a bitch could have handled it better. Better than just up and leaving without saying goodbye to any of them.

_Again._

Like the first time wasn't bad enough. Like Tony hadn't had his heart ripped out of his chest once already and handed to him on a platter with the simple words _'You'll do'._

The worst part was the thought that had popped into his head the moment after he'd seen that picture in the envelope Gibbs had left for the Director.

Abby.

He turned and high-tailed it down to the lab, ready to pick up the pieces of his forensic scientist and cursing Gibbs with every profanity his Long Island upbringing could come up with.

Only to find she didn't even know.

No, that got to be his job, breaking her heart again; the same heart that he'd carefully reconstructed and held together with scotch tape and sheer will for four long months. And as she sobbed in his arms, as he held her and let her tears soak his shirt, he felt his anger grow and take on a life of its own.

_Enough._ He'd be damned if he let the bastard walk all over him again. He'd made it through once. He could do it again.

He tightened his grip on Abby, and said the words that he would make himself believe.

"It'll be okay."

~ 0 ~

It was only a few short weeks later that Tony walked off the elevator, listening delightedly to the tale of McGee's latest romantic endeavor. Picking up a girl at a funeral was a DiNozzo-emulating action indeed, and he was extremely proud of the young grasshopper.

They'd tied up the Paulson case rather nicely, complete with a new arrest and new charges being filed against Mickey Stokes, the original mastermind behind the Greater Virginia Bank Robbery. Working with Fornell had been easier than ever, and if he were honest, he'd enjoyed the chance to see the FBI agent interacting with Gibbs, who had once again deigned a case worthy of his personal appearance all the way from Mexico. Having the two older men treat him, if not as an equal, than at least as someone that needed to be listened to, had helped cement in his own mind that the transition was nearly complete. Gibbs had retired, or whatever it was he wanted to call it, and Tony had stepped in to fill his shoes. He finally thought they might even fit.

He rounded the corner of the divider into the bullpen and stopped in his tracks. The stacks of manila folders nearly obscured the desktop that used to be his. His shaving cream, deodorant and other personal effects were laid on top and looked as if they might cause the pile to topple at any given moment. The box on the desk that had formerly been McGee's seemed to confirm what his sub-conscience was doing its best to protect his brain from fully realizing.

The sight of Agent Lee holding her own files, with her tape dispenser and the stapler he'd 'brought' her from Europe balanced precariously on top, looking as lost as he felt, was the piece that completed the puzzle.

Gibbs was back.

Tony just wished he knew how the hell he was supposed to feel about that.

TBC . . .


	8. Bitter Pills

"_You should be proud of him." (Jenny)_

"_DiNozzo?" (Gibbs)_

"_When you left, there were some rocky moments. He really held the team together."_

"_It's what I trained him to do."_

"_I just thought you should know, he excelled at it."_

_Chapter Seven_

Tony was fairly certain it wasn't just his imagination. It had happened too often in the past several days, well, since Gibbs had returned from Mexico, really, for it to be just a coincidence. Besides, he didn't believe in coincidences any more than Gibbs did.

An assignment would come up; something off-site that needing checking out. A witness that needed interviewing, or a lead to be followed up on. Gibbs would stand and take a covert look around the bullpen while he ran his little finger over that damned mustache. Tony would wait, looking busy, but ready to jump to his feet the minute Gibbs said his name.

Except his name was never called anymore. Gibbs took Ziva with him more often than not, though sometimes he took McGee. Only when the whole team was called out was Tony ever leaving the office these days. Otherwise, he was left behind to do research or make the phone calls. It hadn't been obvious at first, until he noticed the pattern developing and started keeping track. Not once in the last eleven times Gibbs had headed out and needed backup had he taken DiNozzo along.

It was like being picked last for kickball. Not that he'd ever _been_ picked last. With his ability in sports, that was never something he'd had to worry about. But if he had, he imagined it would feel just like this.

He longingly recalled those days after Vivian had been kicked off the team and back to the suits. For nearly eight months it had been just him and Gibbs, schlepping from scene to scene, sharing the load between them. They'd worked amazingly well together, even though it was just the two of them, and that time had solidified their partnership into something Tony had never had before. Because of that period, even as the team grew, first with Kate and then with McGee, Tony had still spent the next few years as Gibbs' shadow, always at the boss' side, just a half step behind. He felt like he'd earned the right to that position. He was Gibbs' _Senior Field Agent_, and that was a badge of honor he wore proudly.

Lately, though, it felt like that honor had been stripped away. Who knew how Gibbs' mind worked, how he chose the assignments of who did what for his team? Not Tony. Not in this instance.

He should have taken the job in Rota.

When the time came on that Thursday afternoon that Gibbs stood and rubbed his mustache just after having received a call, Tony didn't spare more than a half-second's glance before resuming his search for a rental car company his suspect might have utilized. _His_ suspect, not _their _suspect, because the rest of the team did not buy into the patented Anthony DiNozzo 'It's-Usually-The-Wife' theory. And while it was true that Mrs. Edward J. Lawrence had a pretty solid alibi for the morning the temporarily AWOL but now dead Lance Corporal had been murdered, something about it seemed hinky. Though her minivan had sat in the school parking lot all morning and the first grade teacher had confirmed that Mrs. Lawrence had been helping out in the classroom and couldn't possibly have driven the forty-five minutes to the field training site where her husband had been found gutted with a K-bar, Tony couldn't seem to let it go. There was something in her eyes, a shadow that only those who had darkness in their own pasts would have recognized. It was at least worth a call to a buddy who owned a rental agency to see what he could track down, see if by some chance she'd rented a car to transport the body to the scene, leaving her van at the school to firm up her alibi. Tony had to leave a message for his friend, though, and he was now trying to search on-line for the nearest rental place to that God-forsaken little town in the middle of nowhere, Virginia.

"Where the hell's Ziva?" Gibbs snapped out, irritation plain in his tone.

Tony looked up at that, noticing for the first time that her desk was empty.

"Uh, I don't think she's back yet, Boss," McGee offered, hoping to stay out of the line of fire.

"Back from where?"

McGee's hopes of flying beneath the radar were coming to a crashing end. "She, uh, she had that dentist appointment today – don't you remember?" He winced. Of course Gibbs remembered. At least he would have. Eventually. How lucky Tim was that he got to be the one to remind him.

Tony gave an internal snort. Dentist. He'd have to remember that one the next time he needed an afternoon off.

Gibbs tossed his empty coffee cup into the trash with a little more force than necessary. "Fine. McGee, you're with me."

"Boss-man, wait!" Abby bounced into the bullpen.

"Not now, Abs," Gibbs replied. "I've got a lead from the LEO's out in Lawrence's hometown."

"That's okay! It's not really you I need, it's Timmy. See, I'm going through the laptop we found at Lawrence's apartment, and I found something hinky. It's got this photo software on it, and well, that's not really hinky, because lots of people have photo software on their computers. Have you seen some of the pictures these people put out? I have a friend who does these landscapes by layering the same RAW file over several times, each of them enhanced a different way. The picture ends up looking like a cross between a live shot and a painting. It's totally cool!"

"Abby!" Gibbs' use of her name pulled her back from her rambles.

"Right, don't need to know that. Okay, the reason it's hinky is because it's encrypted, and I don't know why anybody would bother to encrypt a photo software, unless maybe they were taking naughty pictures they didn't want anyone to see, and I figured it was worth checking into, so I want McGee to come break the code, because I've got, like seventeen billion other tests all going at once." She finished up by taking a big breath to replace the oxygen she'd lost while speaking continuously.

Though Gibbs' expression remained completely neutral, Tony could feel the older man's eyes rolling from where he sat. He tried not to take offense at the sigh that escaped before his name was spoken.

"DiNozzo," the tone was resigned, "with me."

It was all Tony could do not to glare at the man he'd considered his mentor for longer than he could remember. Being picked last was bad enough. Did Gibbs have to make it so blatantly obvious that he'd rather spend time with anyone other than Anthony DiNozzo, Jr.? As was his custom though, he squelched his emotions and pasted a smile on his face that felt distinctly false. "On your six, Gibbs." He stood and grabbed his bag. He opened his drawer, and if anyone noticed that he shoved his gun into his holster a little more roughly than the situation required, they chose not to comment.

~0~

Gibbs glanced over at his passenger, taking note of the casual way Tony held his position despite the last minute right hand turn their vehicle had just executed. DiNozzo had a way of putting up with Gibbs' driving that gave new meaning to the phrase 'going along for the ride.' Too bad McGee and Ziva couldn't manage to do likewise. Though they'd learned to put up with the erratic tendencies Gibbs displayed behind the wheel, they'd never grown to be comfortable with it the way Tony seemed to be.

Not for the first time he wondered what was going through the younger agent's mind. A quiet DiNozzo was never a good thing. It was as if DiNozzo's mouth was his internal temperature barometer. If he carried on with seemingly idle chatter, interspersed with barbs directed at his teammates, things were generally smooth sailing. Too little chatter, or conversely, too much chatter, and there were stormy seas ahead. Gibbs figured a little DiNozzo monsoon might actually be a good thing right now. At least then they could get whatever was wrong between them out in the open, and hopefully move on.

He'd been avoiding DiNozzo lately, though it had taken him a while to come out and admit it to himself. Moments like this were exactly the reason why. Things had become decidedly awkward between the two of them since Gibbs had returned, and Gibbs longed for the easier days, before the explosion that had blown his life to hell, when he and Tony worked together as seamlessly as if they shared a brain.

DiNozzo had this uncanny ability to anticipate Gibbs' needs to the point of seeming to read his mind. It had spoiled Gibbs so much that he now expected the same of all his team members, regularly demanding they finish his sentences for him, leaving him the option of saying fewer words.

That had definitely been missing since Gibbs came back several weeks ago. McGee and Ziva were still making the effort, but it seemed off-kilter, as if they weren't one hundred percent certain what Gibbs was looking for. And though Tony still managed to be on the mark more often then not, Gibbs knew it was because he'd gotten used to leading the team, and he was merely stating what he'd do in Gibbs' shoes. It had lost the feeling of being about Gibbs, and become more about doing what was needed to get the job done.

And Gibbs was just enough of a self-centered bastard to wish, occasionally, that it was still about him.

The carefully maintained neutral expression that Tony wore these days was another thing that Gibbs was coming to hate. He had a feeling he knew the reason for it. Tony was a master at masking his true feelings. He always had been. Gibbs had been one of the extremely privileged few who was allowed a glimpse behind that mask to the real Anthony DiNozzo beneath, and even then, those glimpses had been few and far between, and Gibbs had never once wanted to take them for granted. His young agent was more than an enigma, and the mystery that was Tony was something Gibbs had taken great pride in slowly unraveling over the course of their years together.

To see the mask back in place now, even when they were alone together, only served to drive home exactly how much that explosion had cost him; had cost them all. After five years of molding and shaping Tony with the same care that he'd give one of his boats, he had no desire to be back at square one.

Still, there was probably a benefit to the mask Tony now wore – at least it kept Gibbs from seeing what he knew was lingering in the younger man's expression.

When he'd first poached DiNozzo from the Baltimore Police Department, he'd been pleased by the lightning-quick mind, the boundless energy, and the willingness to stand up to anyone, even Gibbs himself, for something Tony believed in. What he hadn't counted on was the child-like faith DiNozzo placed in his new team leader, far sooner than Gibbs would have expected such loyalty. He hadn't seen that kind of dedicated devotion, that belief that he could do no wrong, aimed in his direction for many years. And when he had lost Kelly, he never really thought he'd see it again.

To find it once more, coming from a man whose personnel file indicated he should be the last one to give such absolute trust, was humbling indeed. He had vowed he'd never take advantage of it or do anything to shatter it. And despite the many ways Tony had received the full-bore brunt of Gibbs' bastardry over the years, he'd held himself back from pushing the young man too far and losing that amazing gift he'd been given for the second time in his life.

Now though, if he chanced a glance at Tony when the young man was unaware, before he had time to slip the mask in place, Gibbs saw what he'd hoped to never see in those green eyes.

Disappointment.

It was a bitter pill to swallow. Gibbs knew it was his fault, knew he deserved it. He even knew he had to make it right.

He just didn't have the faintest idea how.

Though an apology might be called for, Gibbs doubted he'd be able to do so. It wasn't in his nature, no matter how deserved it might be. DiNozzo knew that, for Pete's sake, so he should hardly be expecting one anyway. It _was_ deserved though. Simply piling Tony's stuff on his desk the morning he'd returned to work had been a mistake. He hadn't thought about how the younger man would see that as a demotion. If he had, he would have pulled him aside and explained it to him, given him warning, rather than shove it in his face with all the team looking on. Faulty memory was a poor excuse. He should have known better. And when he'd finally clued in how much damage he'd done by that move, he should have put aside his damned rules and just made it right. But he'd let it go too long.

Still, Gibbs couldn't help but hope that somehow they'd manage to get over this and move on.

Before it really was too late.

~0~

Tony watched the trees move past the window in a blur, not really focusing on anything. He was lost in his thoughts, unwilling to make the effort toward conversation as he would have done not long ago. There was something fractured in his relationship with Gibbs, something so far from normal that he wasn't sure it was repairable. Whatever it was, at the moment, he was too tired to care.

Too many sleepless nights over the last week and half were catching up with him, and he ignored the tickle in the back of his throat that urged on the desire to cough. He knew the signs well enough, knew that he should be far more careful not to let himself get too run down, for that was when his plague-weakened lungs tended to make themselves known. Between the not sleeping and the not eating that had come since Jenny had put forth the offer for his own team in Rota, it was a wonder Tony had any energy left at all. Ducky would no doubt get on his case if the older gentleman were aware of just how lousy a job Tony was doing of taking care of himself.

It used to be that task would have fallen under Gibbs' job description. His team leader had taken it upon himself to become rather well-versed in the many different ways Tony had of neglecting his own health, and Gibbs would take whatever steps were necessary to undo the damage. A casually barked order of "Go home, DiNozzo," when he would have stayed at the office well into the night, or a hot Italian sub mysteriously showing up on his desk when he'd skipped too many meals were all methods Leroy Jethro Gibbs used to show his concern. Quiet, subtle, and all the more meaningful because of it.

Apparently that was one more memory the explosion had robbed them of.

Tony usually knew better than to let himself get too run down. His job depended on his ability to stay fit, healthy and alert, and he made a mental note to get home at a decent hour tonight. Grab something to eat, pop a DVD in and watch a movie in bed – it was a recipe he'd used many times to get the sleep his body and his lungs craved. Hopefully it would be enough that this cold that had been hovering on the edge of the horizon could be held at bay.

Decision made, he willfully pulled his mind out of his funk and returned his focus to the case. "So where we heading?"

~0~

Gibbs' eyes darted toward his passenger before returning to the road in front of him. He was sure he'd told him what they were doing, but he knew it was unlikely DiNozzo had forgotten. The man's memory was legendary, and his ability to recall facts and details he'd barely laid eyes on had come in handy more than once. More probable was that Gibbs had simply overlooked the younger agent's need to know and therefore hadn't said anything. He sighed, angry at himself all over again.

"Boone's Mill, Virginia. McGee dug up a piece of property there that belongs to Corporal Lawrence's family. I had the LEO's check it out for us, and they found evidence of blood in a box of tools in a shed out back. Could be nothing, or could be that's where our murder took place. They've already cordoned off the house. We need to process the scene."

Tony heard Gibbs' initial sigh and assumed it was directed toward him. He felt the hot flare of anger over the injustice of his boss's behavior. Tony had a right to know what they were up to, and he debated opening his mouth now and giving Gibbs a piece of his mind. He counted slowly to ten, then did it again in Spanish, and visualized pushing the anger away and locking it in a small box. It worked enough that he was able to keep a tight rein over the emotions, and the mask slipped back over his face, and he returned his gaze to the streets passing by.

"It's got to be NCI-us?" he asked, pleased that his voice sounded normal. "Couldn't the locals handle it, just send us the evidence?"

"Well, yeah, they could. If only they weren't idiots. Besides, I want to see if this could be where Lawrence was during his two days AWOL. I've got us a room reserved for tonight if we need it."

"Tonight?" Tony fought to keep the whine out of his voice. "We aren't heading back to D.C. anytime soon, are we?"

Gibbs chuckled, taking a sip of his lukewarm coffee. "What's the matter, DiNozzo? Big plans?"

Tony pulled out his second cell phone, preparing to send a text to Jeanne. "Not anymore." He clipped the phone back onto his belt when he saw there was no service and cleared his throat again, alarmed when this time the stubborn tickle wouldn't go away. Reaching quickly into his backpack, he pulled out a bottle of water and took a long draw before realizing it was futile. There was no longer any holding back.

The cough that took hold of him felt as if it was coming up from his toes, and it was all he could do to keep from spraying the water he'd just sipped all over the interior of the sedan. The force of the cough took his breath away, and he rode the wave, trying not to give in to the terror of remembering his time with the plague, when simply taking a breath was a battle that resulted in very little oxygen and more bloody phlegm than he cared to see. His cough now was deep and harsh and wet, and he knew before he even started it was going to be bad. It was nearly two full minutes before he managed to gain any semblance of control, two minutes of harsh, barking coughs that came from his burning lungs and ripped through his throat, leaving it raw and abused. As the cough settled down, he concentrated on breathing shallowly and even, doing his best to act as if it was no big deal, as if each breath wasn't resulting in agony.

He knew Gibbs was looking at him, could see the hint of concern in the older man's face, even if Gibbs probably didn't remember exactly why he should be so concerned. Tony had little doubt his run-in with the black death of a time gone by wasn't something worthy of a place in Gibbs' still spotty memory.

Gibbs was openly staring, paying little attention to the winding two-lane road ahead. "You alright?" he asked, subdued.

"'M fine," Tony gave his standard reply, taking another careful sip of water.

"Yeah, DiNozzo, I can see that," Gibbs said wryly.

"It's just a cold."

"A cold?" Gibbs asked, his brow furrowing as he tried accessing memories that refused to come, but he knew there was something there. "That's bad for you, right?"

Tony would have laughed at the absurdity of the remark if he weren't so afraid it would start another coughing jag. Gibbs apparently still held the title as Master of Understatement. "It's no big deal," he insisted.

He refused to acknowledge that he'd just lied to his boss.

TBC...


	9. Realizations

_Chapter Eight_

They arrived at the small homestead not long after 1500 hours. The driveway wound nearly half a mile off the main road through a grove of trees that fully obscured the structure from the road. The twin muddy ruts through the grass were the only indication of a residence which had seen better days. There was a dog tied to the porch, an old, ugly thing that barely raised its head in acknowledgment of their arrival.

The sight of the animal surprised Tony, as he hadn't realized that anyone was living here, and he stated as much to Gibbs.

Gibbs shrugged, not having any information to offer, and pulled the vehicle over next to the police cruiser which was parked by the side of the house. He climbed out and took a visual inspection of the property, noticing the shed nearly one-hundred yards behind the house actually looked to be in better condition than the home itself.

Tony took it upon himself to go talk with the LEO, knowing Gibbs would want to avoid it if at all possible. After ascertaining that to the best of their knowledge, the house was generally unoccupied and confirming that no one was currently present except for the dog, he followed the short, balding deputy to the shed.

Upon entering, there was little doubt in Tony's eyes that this was their murder scene. He thanked the LEO and released him from the scene before he headed back to the car for their equipment.

He met the questioning gaze Gibbs turned on him as the older man looked up from where he been making friends with the animal. "Looks like we found our crime scene, Gibbs."

~ 0 ~

Gibbs bit back a sigh. Not once since he'd returned from Mexico had DiNozzo referred to him as 'Boss'. Over the years, the word had evolved into so much more than a title. It showed a depth of respect and friendship that went far beyond the supervisor/employee relationship. It was a term that few were allowed to use, and none relished that privilege more than DiNozzo. It was generally the first word out of his mouth upon his return to consciousness after any of the many on-the-job mishaps – a confirmation that his team leader was right where the younger agent expected him to be; needed him to be. It had been too long since Gibbs had heard it in Tony's particular inflection.

He missed it.

But it would be a cold day in hell before he'd admit that to anyone, least of all to the young man himself.

He stood up from his position talking to the dog, covering a wince at the noise his knee made upon straightening and walked over towards DiNozzo, keeping one eye on the local deputy as he climbed into his car and left.

"You want me to get Ziva and McGee down here with the truck?" DiNozzo asked, pulling out one of his two cells.

Gibbs wondered idly what the second one was for, and decided he didn't really want to know.

"No," he answered. "By the time they get down here, even with Ziva driving, we could have the whole thing processed. Grab the gear. We'll head into town when we're done and stay at the motel."

"On it," DiNozzo replied, his shoulders drooping slightly. "No service out here anyway. Couldn't call McGee if I wanted to." He dropped the cell into his front pants pocket and turned to open the trunk, retrieving the camera and the rest of the gear.

"Hold up, DiNozzo. We're going to check the house first."

"LEO said no one was home," Tony pointed out.

Gibbs raised an eyebrow at him.

"Right. Never believe what you're told – always double check," he recited from memory, following Gibbs onto the porch and pulling his weapon as a precaution.

Gibbs said nothing, pleased that at least their non-verbal skills seemed to be falling back into place. He pulled out his picks and began working on the lock.

"We got a warrant?" Tony queried.

Again, Gibbs merely raised an eyebrow, barely pausing in his actions.

Tony looked sheepish. "Sorry, Gibbs. Guess I've been spending too much time around Lee," he said by way of explanation.

They entered in tandem, barely taking in the room and its rustic coziness, bypassing the woodburning stove that was still warm and working their way through the remainder of the small house, DiNozzo heading off to the right while Gibbs cleared the left.

Satisfied they were alone, Gibbs holstered his weapon and watched as DiNozzo entered from the back hallway, taking the time to glance again toward the kitchen they'd already cleared. The younger man was pale, his skin glistening slightly in the low light of the floor lamp. His eyes seemed overly bright, and there was a slight tremor in his hand as he re-holstered his weapon.

"Nobody's home, Gibbs. Back of the house is clear."

"You look like crap, DiNozzo." The words were out before Gibbs had given them any real thought, but there was no denying the truth of them.

Tony raised his eyes and looked warily at Gibbs as he came to a stop near the older man. "I'm fine," he stated again, in a way that Gibbs was beginning to hate.

It was a reflex, an instinct borne of years of parenting, that caused Gibbs to raise his hand to his agent's forehead, ignoring the flinch long enough to place his palm against skin that was far warmer than it should have been.

"What the hell, Gibbs?" Tony backed away immediately, irritation plainly written on his face. "I said I was fine."

The simple touch unleashed a flood of memories for Gibbs of similar actions, long days and nights spent under blue lights, listening to the man before him doing all he could to drag air into tortured lungs, coughing and sounding as if he were drowning before his very eyes. Nights of listening to feverish ramblings, all the while dragging a cool cloth over the too-warm skin and praying to a God he was no longer sure was listening that He wouldn't take him, couldn't take him, not after all Gibbs had already lost. Days spent reminding Tony he couldn't give up, that he could beat this, despite the odds. The memory was strong enough that Gibbs nearly stumbled back, but he held his ground firmly and stared open-mouthed at the young man before him.

"The plague? Holy crap, DiNozzo." He wiped a hand over his eyes as if it could change the memory, make it less real. "You had the freakin' plague?"

Tony took another step back, shutters falling over his eyes. "Was a long time ago," he uttered, fully believing that to be true. It seemed almost another lifetime. Before Kate's – he still couldn't even think the word - before Ziva and Jenny, before Gibbs and the damn amnesia. And now was not the time for a walk down memory lane.

He moved away and headed towards the fireplace to put some distance between them when something on the mantle caught his eye, and he reached out a hand to pick it up.

"Gibbs . . ." he wordlessly held the photograph out to the silver-haired man.

Jethro took the picture, brow furrowing as he looked down at the image of two couples - their murder victim, his smiling wife, and Corporal Thomas; the Lance Corporal's best friend with his arms wrapped around another woman – who just happened to be the first grade teacher who provide Mrs. Lawrence with her alibi.

TBC...

A/N - Apologies in advance - there will be no chapter next week, as I will be off in the sunny Caribbean with other things to do than hang out with my laptop... :)


	10. Missteps

A/N: Just wanted to send a thank you to DemonUntilDeath for pointing out a huge continuity error, which I've attempted to patch with a blink-and-you'll-miss-it fix. Seems like a good time to put out my 'Help Wanted' sign again to see if there's anyone looking for a beta job. Payment in eternal gratitude and virtual cookies. Btw, my time in Cayman was awesome! Thanks for the well-wishes. Check my profile pic to see the beach we stayed on.

_Chapter Nine_

Gibbs took the photo from Tony's outstretched hand, letting his gaze roll over the image. Thoughts of the plague and its miserable aftermath were driven from his mind as the investigator in him took over and he returned his focus to the case. It was obvious the couples were close friends; obvious that the woman who had vouched for Carol Lawrence's whereabouts during the period Ducky had established as her husband's time of death could well have been lying. If the woman had lied, leaving Mrs. Lawrence with no alibi for that time, that moved the wife into the prime suspect spot.

_Damn it_. DiNozzo was probably right after all.

Gibbs knew Tony's fallback position in most cases was to blame the spouse. He had wondered in times past what exactly that said for the young man's upbringing, where trust apparently had not been evident in the example of marriage set for a young DiNozzo, that let Tony so easily believe a wife could be led to murder.

He tapped the picture frame idly against his hand, refocusing his thoughts. The case was what mattered, and he needed to think it through from the perspective of his potential suspect. This was an area DiNozzo excelled in; the run-through of how the criminal mind worked. He could pull ideas out of a hat and have them actually make sense, regardless of whether or not most people would see it that way. Asking him to do so now would not only help the case, it could help to put them on a more solid footing. Working together seemed to be the only thing they had left these days, even though Gibbs was the one guilty of pushing the younger man and his opinions away.

Time to start fixing that.

"Alright," Gibbs began, "spell it out for me."

DiNozzo looked at him warily, apparently still mildly annoyed over the recent invasion of his personal space. "What?"

"Your theory - the wife. How'd she do it? Why did she do it?"

"You're asking me?" Tony asked, unwilling to believe Gibbs wasn't setting him up for a fall.

Gibbs rolled his eyes, wishing the younger man were close enough to headslap. "Well, no, DiNozzo, I was talking to the dog." He gave him a half-hearted glare. "It was your theory. Explain it to me," he asked with more patience than he was usually known for. "What made you suspect her in the first place?"

"It's usually the wife," Tony responded as if no explanation were required, his eyes still glazed, his mind not completely participating in the conversation.

"DiNozzo . . ." Gibbs growled.

The one-word threat was so reminiscent of their earlier times together before the explosion that it actually seemed to perk up the senior field agent, and Gibbs was pleased to see the look of concentration return to his face.

"Her eyes. There was something in her eyes when we interviewed her." Tony walked closer to Gibbs and took the picture, examining it more closely. "She was upset about her husband's death, sure. But there was something else there too." He looked up from the object he held directly into Gibbs' face. "I'm pretty sure she was angry."

"Her husband just died. Of course she was angry."

"No, it was more than that. Different."

"Okay. So, angry about what?"

Tony shrugged. "Don't know. I'm not so sure about motive," Tony replied honestly.

"What about method and opportunity?"

DiNozzo started to pace, warming up to sharing his ideas now that he knew Gibbs was giving them some merit. "Okay. Going by what we found in the shed, the method seems obvious. Ducky said he was gutted with his own K-bar. So, crime of passion? They're arguing and she flips out, grabs the knife and drives it home?"

"Out in the shed?" Gibbs countered. "Seems a bit more premeditated than that."

"Yeah, maybe. Or maybe that's just where he was when they started arguing."

"Okay, I can buy that," Gibbs affirmed. "But what the hell was he doing here in the first place? He was supposed to be with his unit over two hours away."

"Maybe he knew she'd be here. Maybe he knew something was wrong, and he was coming here to talk it out with her. He was AWOL for nearly two days before they found him. We assumed he'd been taken. What if he hadn't? What if he went AWOL on his own in order to fix his marriage?"

"_We_ assumed, DiNozzo?" Gibbs bit down on the smile at seeing the younger man in his element, but it still slipped into his eyes.

~0~

Tony caught the hint of a grin, and felt his chest lighten slightly. Hashing things out like this gave him hope, that maybe his relationship with Gibbs wasn't damaged beyond all repair, that there might be something salvageable. The older man at least appeared to be finally giving his ideas some weight.

True, the fact that their murder seemed to have occurred here on the property owned by the Lawrence family certainly helped Tony's case, and he wouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth. But seeing the smirk on Gibbs' face was Tony's own personal version of an 'atta-boy'. In the past, he'd worked his butt off for one of those looks; he loved knowing that he could make his hard-assed marine of a boss smile when others most often failed. There hadn't been any of those looks lately, and Tony was afraid they'd become nothing more than a memory.

Still, there was a hell of a lot of damage left in the wake of recent events, and Tony wasn't about to sell his soul for half a smile. He felt the bitterness return.

"_I _assumed, Gibbs," he clarified. He wanted to add some snide remark about how Gibbs would _never_ break one of his own rules, but he was too tired to make the effort. The adrenaline rush from talking through his ideas had energized him for a bit, but he could feel it waning fast. He walked over to the well-worn loveseat and sank wearily onto the cushions, leaning over with his elbows on his knees. The position seemed to make breathing a bit easier, and right now, he'd take what he could get.

He'd only been fooling himself when he said he was fine. He knew Gibbs wasn't buying it. And Tony could no longer keep up the façade. He was _sick_, damn it. Gibbs said he looked like crap; well, he felt like it too. He'd fought to deny it as long as possible, but this was more than just a cold. Something in his chest felt off, and it was a feeling he definitely recognized. Bronchitis, at least, possibly even the beginnings of pneumonia. He hated that he'd been so cavalier about his health as to leave home the inhalers that Dr. Pitt had prescribed for him. He'd trade his Mustang for them now. Hell, he'd be happy with some Tylenol. But admitting that would be tantamount to admitting weakness, and he wasn't sure enough of his current standing in Gibbs' eyes to lay himself open like that. No, better that he just pull himself together and suck it up. They had a job to finish here, and the sooner he got it done, the sooner they could head back home.

He took a breath so he could say so to Gibbs, but he must have breathed in too deeply, because the sharp pain in his left side left him gasping out loud, and then the coughing began.

~0~

Gibbs saw that DiNozzo was flagging, and his concern for his agent ratcheted up a notch. He remembered enough to know that DiNozzo would do just about anything to avoid showing weakness, especially to Gibbs, and he had no desire to see the young man push himself right into a hospital stay. The fact that they were no doubt hours from decent medical care did nothing to alleviate his concern. He knew they needed to get to processing the scene so that they might have a shot at getting back tonight. He'd drive all night if he had to, just to get Tony back to Ducky's care safe and sound.

These thoughts were driven from his mind the minute Tony started coughing, and he could only stare across the room, standing there with his fists clenching, wishing there was something he could do to help his friend; certain it was pointless, that Tony neither wanted nor would accept his assistance.

But the green eyes that shot up from Tony's face to meet his own held just a hint of panic as the reality of not being able to catch his breath caught up with a gasping DiNozzo.

"Gibbs . . ."

The tone alone was enough to propel Jethro into action, and he moved swiftly across the room and into a position that was too familiar, wrapping his arms around Tony and supporting him with his left arm while his right pounded firmly on Tony's upper back, working to loosen the congestion Gibbs could feel beneath his hand.

"Breathe, Tony. Nice and easy. I got you; you're okay. Just _breathe_, damn it." His words were quiet, barely audible over the coughing that continued, but they helped to soothe both men as Tony fought for control. Gibbs knew without question he'd said similar things many times before, that they had already done this dance. It took several minutes before things quieted enough for Gibbs to sense the beginnings of Tony's distress over his proximity, and he sat back on his haunches, leaving a hand on Tony's shoulder, uncaring if the younger man wanted it there or not.

He didn't bother to ask DiNozzo if he was okay, knowing any answer he got wouldn't be the truth anyways. Trying to convince Tony to take it easy while Gibbs processed the scene would be equally futile, but he could give him a few minutes to regroup, and so he sat and waited patiently, pleased to see that his partner's breathing was evening out again. The need to get DiNozzo out of here took on more urgency, but with no one to secure the scene, his hands were tied unless it truly became a life-threatening situation, and he didn't think there were there.

_Yet._

He pulled his hand off Tony's shoulder and lifted up enough to sit on the edge of the battered coffee table, offering Tony what he figured he wanted most right now. "Okay. Let's say I believe where you're going with this. Their marriage is on the rocks, so the Lance Corporal leaves his unit and comes down because he knows his wife is here, and he wants to fix things."

"But maybe they're not fixable," Tony jumped in, glad for the distraction and the chance to return things to normal. Trust Gibbs to know what he needed after losing control. "So they argue and she kills him."

"How's the body get from here to the training grounds?"

"Got a theory about that, Gibbs." Tony struggled to make a move to stand, but it was aborted at the sound of a new voice in the room.

"Yes, Agent DiNozzo. Since you've apparently got it all figured out, please tell the rest of the class. How _did_ I get the body out of here?"

Gibbs and Tony looked up as one, both reaching for their weapons at the sight of Carol Lawrence standing in the doorway with a Colt 45 pointed directly at Gibbs' head. Jethro cursed himself for getting so caught up in DiNozzo's difficulties that he missed the sound of the door opening, while Tony looked, of all things, guilty.

"Ah! Don't even think about it," the petite brunette warned, and Gibbs could see she meant it. Tony was right about her eyes. It was there. All the pent up fury and frustration for whatever perceived injustice she had suffered was on display, and he knew she wouldn't hesitate to use the weapon in her hands.

She moved forward, placing the barrel of the gun directly at Gibbs' temple. "You first," she ordered DiNozzo. "Pull out your gun and take out the clip and the bullet in the chamber. Then put the gun on the floor and kick it across the room. Same thing for your back-up."

Tony did as instructed, moving slowly so as not to set her off. All he needed was a trigger-happy woman scorned feeling a need to take things out on Gibbs. Like the older man didn't already have enough of those in his life. He kept his hands in sight when he finished, sitting back slightly on the couch and placing them on his knees.

"Pull up your pant legs."

Tony gave her a questioning look, but did as asked.

"The knife strapped to your ankle. Hand it to me. Slowly," she admonished.

He placed it in her hand.

"Now your cell phone."

Gibbs was pleased to see that Tony gave her his second cell phone only, leaving the first hidden by his jacket. Of the two, McGee would have a better chance tracing the NCIS issued phone.

She repeated the process with Gibbs, keeping the weapon in contact with his head, and when he had finished and the guns were on the far side of the room, she gathered up the clips and the loose bullets. "Give me your keys."

Gibbs handed them over.

"Now get your handcuffs," she dictated.

"You don't want to do this," Gibbs said, keeping his tone reasonable, even as he pulled his cuffs off his belt loop. "We're Federal Agents. You give yourself up to us now, and we can try and help you. Holding us hostage is not the answer."

She laughed bitterly. "Who says I want hostages? I've got nothing left here. They'll probably give me the death penalty for killing Eddie, that no-good, cheating son of a bitch. So what's two more, right? Except I don't need the hassle. Nobody needs to get hurt. I'm just gonna lock you down in the basement and get out of here. I'll be long gone before anyone finds you." She motioned with the gun. "Each of you, put a cuff on your right hand."

Gibbs did as she asked slowly, keeping his eyes open for any opportunities. He saw Tony do the same with his own set of cuffs, leaving them dangling off his arm where he still sat on the couch.

"What about your son?" Tony asked. "He's in school, right? You just going to drag him away with you?"

"_Step_-son," she corrected. "He's not mine, never has been. Doesn't even like me. Boy's probably just as messed up as his sick little daddy was."

Personally, Tony thought if the boy didn't like her, he couldn't be all that messed up, but he refrained from saying so, since it probably wouldn't help their case.

"Stand up and head for the stairs. Nice and slowly."

~0~

Abby eyed her traitorously empty Caf-Pow! container and pouted. Her eye lids were drooping. It was past time for another, and yet none had magically appeared in her lab.

"When's Gibbs due back?" she asked McGee, who had been clicking furiously away at his mouse for the past few hours next to her.

"Don't know," he mumbled, focused elsewhere.

"What do you mean you don't know? Didn't he tell you where he was going?"

"Nope."

"Why not?"

McGee pulled his gaze away from the computer screen long enough to raise his eyebrow at her.

"Oh. Right," Abby answered herself. "It's Gibbs."

She went back to the test she was running and tried to concentrate, but her brain cells were screaming for a jolt, and she glanced over to the door, hoping again that her silver-haired fox might just waltz through any minute carrying that beautiful red and white jewel. She was disappointed, however, and she tried to think back to the last time she'd actually had to go and get her favorite drink for herself. She couldn't remember. She sighed, and reached for another slide to examine.

"Got it!" McGee exclaimed happily.

Abby looked up from her microscope, taking a minute to uncross her eyes. "You broke the encryption?"

"You betcha. Only took me, what – three and a half hours? Either I'm getting better, or this stuff's getting easier." He puffed out his chest dramatically.

Abby laughed, pulling off her rubber gloves and coming to stand next to where McGee was working. "Alright. Show me what you got."

"Abby!" McGee sounded scandalized, a blush creeping up his neck. "Not here," he hissed.

She slapped his shoulder with a rubber glove. "Not anywhere else, either, bucko. Besides, I've already seen what you've got." She waggled her eyebrows at him as she bounced beside him with her hands on her hips. "I want to see pictures!"

McGee tapped a few times on the keyboard, refusing to give in to the urge to rub his shoulder. In a matter of seconds a window appeared on the screen with thousands of tiny photo thumbnails.

Abby sighed again. "Don't you ever wish the bad guys would just put all their evidence into a folder marked 'Secret – Keep Out'?"

"Make our job easier," McGee agreed.

"Instead, looks like we get to sit through the life and times of Lance Corporal Edward Lawrence, photo-style." She dragged over a stool and plopped herself down, ignoring her need for caffeine. "Okay, Timmy. Let 'er rip."

~0~

Looking back, Gibbs figured it was probably the dog's fault. Just as Tony had risen to follow Carol Lawrence's commands, the hound had bolted through the screen door on the front of the house, no doubt startling their killer. Gibbs heard the gunshot before his mind could register the subsequent chain of events, his ears ringing with the sound. His eyes couldn't track the path of the bullet, but he hoped against hope it had gone wild, a suspicion that seemed to be confirmed when neither he nor DiNozzo reacted immediately. The only thing Gibbs knew for certain was that _he_ hadn't been shot. He sent up a prayer of thanks that apparently DiNozzo hadn't either.

Except, as he continued to watch the other man, he took in the uncertain expression on Tony's face. Gibbs froze, raking his eyes over DiNozzo's body, cataloging everything in an instant. Just as he began to relax once again, he saw it. A small red spot, no larger than a dime, appeared on Tony's shirt just above his belt. It didn't stay small for long, though, and by the time Gibbs had made it across to try and stop Tony's knees from buckling, it was growing at an alarming rate. He eased him back down to the couch, pulling the ruined shirttails from out of DiNozzo's pants and bunching it up to put pressure on the wound.

"Damn it, DiNozzo," he said gruffly. "You hold on, you hear me?"

Tony gave a small nod, even as he allowed his eyes to close. "I hear you, Boss."

Gibbs heard the term he'd been waiting too long for, and even as the word 'boss' came from Tony's lips once again, he wouldn't let himself believe that this might be the last time.

TBC . . .


	11. Hell in a Handbasket

A/N: This chapter is beta'd! Huge thanks to AZgirl for offering her talented services in response to my plea. Any remaining mistakes are mine and mine alone.

_Chapter Ten_

The basement was damp, dark and disgusting. It was little more than a root cellar with cement walls, and the smell of mold permeated the air. There were no windows, and the only exit was the stairs they were walking down now. As Gibbs all but carried DiNozzo, who was doing his best to walk alongside him, his blue eyes inspected the room thoroughly, looking for anything that might help them out of their current situation. There was little down here save for a few boxes and an old workbench that had been stripped of tools. A single bulb hung in the middle of the room, and he paused, letting DiNozzo take more of his own weight so Gibbs could reach up and pull the string. The light did little to dispel the gloom of what was about to become their prison for the next while. He preferred to think of it as a prison, and not a tomb, though he knew the gun was still trained on their movements as the woman followed them down.

Things had gone to hell in a handbasket faster than Gibbs had expected. The unexpected shooting of a federal agent had apparently been enough to push Carol Lawrence right over the brink. A few minutes earlier, Gibbs had watched in anger as the woman screamed at Tony after shooting him, rushed over to where he had fallen back onto the couch and pushed the weapon up into his jaw as if it were DiNozzo's fault that the bullet had hit him. She had ranted at him, accusing him of trying to screw everything up, and why the hell couldn't he just stay out of it. Wasn't it just like a man, and if only he'd been able to keep it in his pants, then she wouldn't have to kill him. DiNozzo's eyes had slid over to meet with Gibbs' gaze at that point, and Gibbs could hear his thoughts as clearly as if they'd been spoken aloud. Lawrence was confusing DiNozzo with her dead husband, and that didn't bode well for him. For either of them, really.

Gibbs had kept pressure on Tony's abdomen, trying to slow the bleeding while attempting to keep as still as possible so as not to set the woman off again. He'd give nearly anything to take her down since she was standing so close to him, but the sight of the barrel forcing Tony's head back was enough to still his hands for now, though it took a good portion of his self-control. He wouldn't, couldn't take a chance on something that would endanger Tony's life more than it already was, but more than anything, he wanted to see this woman rot in hell for daring to threaten one of his own.

Lawrence's ranting had continued for several minutes, during which time Gibbs held Tony's gaze and tried to offer whatever silent reassurance he could. Finally the woman took a shaky breath and made a visible effort to control herself. She pulled the weapon away from Tony and backed up a few feet, still muttering to herself.

"Get up," she demanded, motioning again with the gun.

Tony let out a grunt that might have been a laugh. "Yeah, 'm thinking that's not gonna happen," he stated the obvious.

"You," she pointed to Gibbs, "help him. Down to the basement. Now."

Gibbs looked apologetically at Tony, knowing this was going to hurt him. He picked up a dishtowel that was hanging off the arm of the couch and pressed it into the wound. Ignoring Tony's muffled groan of pain, he grabbed the agent's right hand and moved it into position to hold the makeshift bandage in place. "Alright. We go up on the count of three, okay?" He reached under Tony's arms and grabbed his belt in the back and counted, assisting the man into a standing position only to then have the task of trying to keep him on his unstable feet.

"Steady, DiNozzo," he cautioned. "Don't you pass out on me." The challenge worked as Gibbs had known it would.

"DiNozzo's don't . . ." Tony tried to collect himself before his words trailed off.

"Hey!" Gibbs barked, hoping to startle the other man awake. "Stay with me, you hear?"

Tony shuddered and then seemed to rally. "Gotcha." He worked to support more of his own weight, drawing upon on his limited supply of energy and raising his head to observe the woman who held them captive. "She looks pissed," he said in a stage whisper to Gibbs.

Gibbs let out a chuckle, immensely relieved that no matter what happened, Tony was still Tony. "You think?"

"Yeah," Tony nodded. "She's a little scary," he confided.

Gibbs snorted at this. "Nah. She's nothing but a bitch with a gun. I'm betting even you could still take her if she put it down." He could see that Lawrence was getting antsy, and he knew he needed to get DiNozzo moving soon.

"You mean, still take her _now_, right Gibbs? Like this? Because you _know_ I could take her anytime. Could squash her. Not much bigger than Lee," he finished with a mumble.

"Later, killer. You can squash her later, okay? Right now we've got to move. You good to go?"

Tony moved his head from one side to the other, working out a kink, before he squared his shoulders and set to the task ahead of him. Gibbs shifted and took Tony's left arm and pulled it around himself, wrapping his other around DiNozzo and grabbing once again onto Tony's belt, carefully avoiding the wound on his right side. Together they moved towards the stairs, DiNozzo shuffling and Gibbs carrying, all the while aware that the woman behind them was calling the shots only because she held the weapon.

DiNozzo stumbled on the stairs, nearly taking them both down, but Gibbs held him upright until he regained enough equilibrium to continue. They went and sat against the wall where Lawrence pointed them, Gibbs lowering Tony down as gently as he could before sitting reluctantly next to him, close enough that their shoulders were touching.

"Cuff him to the pipe."

Gibbs reached for the cuff dangling from Tony's right wrist and moved to attach it to a small pipe protruding from the wall.

"Not that pipe – the other one."

Resigned, Gibbs attached it to a larger pipe about six inches higher that was much thicker than his original destination. He pulled Tony's left hand over to the now-soaked rag and helped him hold it in place.

"Now yours."

He attached his own cuff to the same pipe and tightened it sufficiently.

"Very good, Agent Gibbs."

He watched her for a moment as she paced anxiously, still muttering to herself, before turning his attention back to Tony, increasing the pressure on the wound as much as he could from his position. DiNozzo grunted, but otherwise held still, his eyes still fixed on Gibbs' face. Gibbs knew that look. It was the one that said that no matter what had happened between them, Tony still trusted Gibbs. Trusted him to be able to stop the bleeding, apprehend the killer and get them out of this fix. Tony still trusted Gibbs, even after all the many ways Gibbs had let him down lately.

Gibbs knew that trust was undeserved.

But what he feared most was that it was also misplaced.

~0~

Abby sighed and rubbed her stomach before placing her elbows on her workbench and resting her chin on her hands. She tried to focus on the images on the screen, but in the past hour they'd looked at picture after picture of family vacations, first days of school, birthday parties and trips to the beach. There was nothing in this photo software that warranted it being encrypted, and she was ready to give up on it as a bust.

"Tired?" McGee asked, taking a break for a minute from enlarging the images.

Abby rolled her eyes and gave him a 'duh' look. "I don't even like looking at this many of _your_ pictures, McGee, and I'm _in_ most of them."

"Hey! My pictures aren't bad."

She squeezed his arm in apology. "I know, Timmy. I didn't mean it. It's just . . ."

McGee waited while she hesitated. "Just what?" he prompted.

"Don't you think Gibbs and Tony should have been back by now?"

"Well, I don't know. I guess it depends on where they went."

"Maybe we should call him."

"You want me to call Gibbs? For no reason?" McGee looked horrified.

Abby scowled at him. "Not for no reason! Just to, you know, check up on him."

"You want me to check up on Gibbs?" McGee didn't look any happier at the thought.

Abby scrunched her lips up, thinking. "Maybe you're right. Call Tony instead."

"Nuh-uh. You do it."

"McGee! You're such a baby! Fine. I'll call him. But I'm telling him you wimped out." She smiled to take the sting out of her words, reaching for her cell and pressing the second speed dial.

"How come Tony is number two on your speed dial?" McGee asked jealously.

"Because Gibbs is number one," she answered, deliberately misunderstanding him.

She waited through several rings before it went to Tony's voice mail, and she frowned. "No answer. And Tony knows better than to break rule number three."

McGee could see she wasn't about to let this go. "Maybe you _should _call Gibbs."

She looked at him before nodding, pressing number one. When there was no answer there as well, she flipped her phone closed and looked at McGee, a worried frown on her face.

"That doesn't necessarily mean anything is wrong, Abby. Maybe they're just in a bad reception area."

"Maybe. But I don't think so, Timmy. Something's hinky. I can feel it in my tummy, and my tummy is never wrong."

~0~

Gibbs listened intently to the sounds of movement overhead. She'd gone up only a few minutes ago, but had yet to leave the house. From the direction of the noise, she was in the bedroom area, perhaps packing up, or maybe just pacing. He took advantage of the time alone to do a visual examination of DiNozzo. The bleeding had slowed to merely oozing, but the rag was soaked through, and Gibbs knew his agent had lost a good amount of blood. Tony sat with his head leaning back against the cold wall, eyes closed. The paleness of his face made the circles under his eyes seem even darker, and though it might be imagined, Gibbs thought he could see just the beginnings of a blue tinge to his lips. His breathing was audible, but the sound actually brought Gibbs comfort. It was better than the alternative.

He shifted his unencumbered left hand from where it was holding pressure on the wound and began to undo the buttons on Tony's shirt one-handed, wanting to confirm there was no exit wound. Tony opened one eye as the coolness of the damp air hit his skin, and he shifted uncomfortably.

"Easy," Gibbs reassured. "Just need to get your shirt open."

Tony closed his eyes again and licked his dry lips. "Yeah, but will you still respect me in the morning?"

Gibbs snorted, the grin coming automatically to his face. "That pre-supposes I respect you now, DiNozzo." He was rewarded when he saw a smile flit across Tony's features.

As Gibbs had feared, the bullet had not left DiNozzo's body, and had no doubt done some significant damage before coming to a stop somewhere amidst Tony's major organs. Gibbs tried not to think about whatever internal bleeding could be going on right now. He was grateful that Tony's coughing had eased up enough so that the agent seemed almost peaceful. They sat in silence for a few moments before Gibbs reached over and unclipped the cell from Tony's waist.

"Anything?" DiNozzo asked, feeling the movement.

"Still no signal."

"Figures. Maybe McGoo can still get a trace on it. Once he figures out we're missing."

"Can you trace a cell that has no service?" Gibbs wondered aloud, making sure the device was still on before stuffing it in his pocket.

"Ummmm," Tony thought a moment. "Dang if I know. That's what I keep McGeek around for." He shifted again, stifling a gasp as he tried to find a more comfortable position, then took a minute to allow his breathing to settle down. Last thing he needed now was a coughing fit. The mere thought of it caused a fresh ripple of pain across his abdomen. "We got a plan?" he asked.

"Not a good one." Gibbs confirmed what Tony already suspected. "You still got your knife?"

Tony rolled his head to look at Gibbs full on and winked. "Rule number nine, Boss."

"Atta-boy, DiNozzo," Gibbs offered. If ever there was a time Tony deserved a compliment, it was now. He reached over and with Tony's fumbling help, removed the knife from the buckle of Tony's belt, remembering that it had already saved DiNozzo's life once before.

"You going to be able to pick the cuffs with that?" Tony asked hopefully.

"Nope. Tip's too big. But if that bitch comes back down the stairs, I plan to be ready for her. You see anything near you that I can pick the locks with?"

Tony looked around as much as he could without moving enough to exacerbate the pain he was already feeling, but the basement was surprisingly clean. "I got nothing. Where's Ziva and her hairpins when we need her?"

Gibbs saw the pain that even the smallest movements brought to Tony's face, and he knew he needed to get the younger man to rest for a bit. He expected an argument when he suggested it, but to his surprise, Tony simply nodded and closed his eyes again, and within minutes his breathing had relaxed somewhat.

As Gibbs sat in the near darkness, he thought he made out the sounds of a car outside. He waited, hoping that perhaps rescue had come, but several minutes passed and when the movement overhead decreased and then ceased altogether, he knew that hope was in vain. He leaned his own head back and worked to come up with a plan.

~0~

"Did you try calling Gibbs again?" Tim asked as he opened up yet another folder of pictures on Lance Corporal Lawrence's computer.

"Still no answer," Abby replied, worry clouding her tone.

"I'm sure they're fine, Abby," McGee stated, though in reality he was certain of no such thing. Even he was starting to feel like things were a little hinky. If nothing else, Tony being alone with Gibbs for this long couldn't possibly be a good thing. It was impossible not to notice the tension that had existed between the two senior most agents on the team since Gibbs had returned from Mexico, and McGee had wondered more than once if it were only a matter of time before Tony handed in his resignation. The thought of that bothered him more than he cared to admit. Sure, he had desires to become Senior Field Agent again someday.

But he didn't want Tony to have to leave in order for that to happen.

Tim nudged her shoulder with his own, wishing Tony were here now to cheer Abby up. He had seen the way the Gothic scientist had come to rely on Tony while Gibbs was gone, and though there was some jealousy on his part, Tim knew there was nothing romantic between the two of them. And he had to acknowledge that Tony seemed able to handle Abby and her mood swings better than any of the rest of them.

She gave him a weak smile and took a sip from the Caf-Pow! that Palmer had dropped off earlier after Tim had sent him a 911 text message.

"Come on. Let's finish up these photos, and maybe we'll have a lead for Gibbs when he returns," McGee suggested.

Abby nodded and waited while he opened up the next batch. She could see immediately that these photos were different from the others. They were dark, obviously taken indoors in low lighting. At first it was hard to make out exactly what they were seeing. They tilted their heads to the left side in unison, squinting and holding the position until Abby's jaw dropped audibly.

"Oh my God, Timmy! Is that what I think it is?"

Tim felt himself blush even as he couldn't tear his gaze away from the screen. He was pretty sure it was exactly what Abby thought it was, but he had a question of his own.

"Is that _who_ I think it is?"

TBC . . .


	12. One Step Forward, Two Steps Back

_Chapter Eleven_

Tony lay against the wall with his eyes closed, trying to take stock of his situation, but his mind seemed a bit fuzzy, and he had trouble keeping track of his thoughts. He decided maybe a mental checklist was in order, and started with the obvious physical issues. Stomach pain – check. His memory was a tad hazy, but no doubt that was from being shot in the gut. Chest pain – check. Probably from the fluid that was slowly filling his lungs. Head full of molasses – oh yeah. Could chalk that one up to the fever that was most likely rising even as he sat as motionless as possible. He felt as if he were freezing one moment and suffering from heatstroke the next. His heart was racing, and his mind was clouded. He opened one eye enough to take a quick look around him and saw the walls of the basement, felt Gibbs presence next to him and determined where he was, but something still seemed off. He figured he'd better ask.

"How'd you get the boat out of here, Gibbs?"

~0~

Tony's question took a minute to process, but soon enough Gibbs realized the younger agent believed them to be down in Gibbs' basement, and that wasn't a good sign. He reached over, gently this time and broadcasting his intent before laying his hand against DiNozzo's forehead. It was even warmer than before, and the cynic in Gibbs wondered which would do in DiNozzo first – the infection in his chest or the bullet wound in his side. At this point, if they didn't get help soon, it would be a toss-up.

He ignored the question about the boat, removing his hand and shifting so that their shoulders were touching, sensing that Tony could use the physical support right now. He settled down, his body remaining still while his mind worked furiously to see if he could come up with a solution that wouldn't end up costing his agent's life.

~0~

Abby looked up at the sound of footsteps entering her lab to see the fourth member of Team Gibbs walking through the doorway. "Ziva! You've been gone forever! What happened?"

The Mossad agent came further into the room, her walk confident and purposeful. "My dentist appointment did not go well. The tooth that has been bothering me apparently needed a root canal, which they proceeded to start on while I was there. I have seen methods of torture that proved less effective." She rubbed her jaw while she was speaking, feeling the slight swelling through the lingering numbness.

"Oh, no!" Abby cried sympathetically. "That must be terrible! I'm so sorry."

"You have never had a root canal?"

"Nope. Never had a cavity either," Abby said proudly.

"Because you brush your teeth like eight times a day," Tim pointed out.

"Good oral hygiene is important, Timmy!" The scientist looked almost offended. "Remember, if you ignore your teeth, they'll go away."

Now it was McGee's turn to look offended. "I swear, if you make one 'Timmy the Toothbrush' joke, I'm out of here."

"Timmy the Toothbrush?" Ziva queried.

"Forget it." McGee advised.

Ziva nodded. She would simply ask Tony about it later. She moved over towards their workstation, eyes drawn to the image on the plasma screen. "Is that . . .?" she asked, her head automatically tilting to the left.

"Lance Corporal Edward Lawrence," Abby supplied.

"And the other one is . . . "

"Corporal Matthew Thomas, the victim's best friend," McGee finished.

"And they are . . . "

"Doing exactly what you think they're doing," Abby smirked, twirling a pigtail.

"So they are hookering up?"

McGee let out a laugh. Tony would have a field day with that one, and he couldn't wait to tell him. "_Hooking_ up, Ziva. Not hookering up. Although, I guess, technically, it could kind of be the same thing. But they are definitely more than friends. Or at least they're friends with benefits."

"Really?" The Israeli made it sound more like a statement than a question.

"Yup," Abby answered. "Not that you're asking. Or that we're telling. But they're definitely doing."

"Huh. So that means Tony may have been right after all."

"Tony suspected that the corporals were having an affair?" Abby asked in disbelief.

"Well, I do not know if he suspected that. But Tony did believe that Mrs. Lawrence killed her husband, and if her husband was cheating on her with another man and she became aware of it, it would certainly supply her with the motive. Perhaps we should call him and tell him. He will no doubt goat about it for days to come."

"Gloat, Ziva, not goat." Tim scrubbed a hand over his face at the unpleasant thought of a gloating DiNozzo. "And we tried calling him, but we can't raise them. They left here a few hours ago, and we haven't heard from them since."

"And my tummy thinks something's hinky."

"And I'm starting to agree with her," McGee chimed in.

After witnessing countless times that Gibbs relied on his gut only to be proved right, Ziva did not automatically dismiss Abby's hinky feeling. "Have you tried tracing their cells?"

"Yes, but I'm not getting anything. Which means they may have their phones turned off, or they could be damaged. Or they're inside somewhere, and the signal is blocked."

"Well, where were they going?"

"That's just it, Ziva, we don't know!" Abby stood and began pacing back and forth, wringing her hands, the chains around her neck jangling as she walked. "Gibbs didn't say anything about where they were going, or how long they'd be gone. He just grabbed Tony and they took off! Well, actually, he tried to take McGee, but I said I needed him here, which I did, but now I wish I hadn't said anything, because Tony didn't look so good, and I think he might be coming down with something, which you know isn't good, because when Tony gets sick, he could get _really_ sick, and if he's stuck out there for hours and hours and he's sick and all he's got with him is Gibbs? I mean, Gibbs isn't exactly warm and fuzzy with Tony at the best of times, and this has definitely not been the best of times lately. It's like they barely talk to each other anymore! Which isn't good. I mean, they hardly ever _had_ to talk, because they have this weird ESP thing going on, but this isn't the same thing. This is not talking because they're mad at each other, or because they don't know what to say to each other anymore, and that's not good. It's just not good!" She stopped her movements and looked to the others as if they would have a magical solution.

Once Abby had finally stopped speaking, McGee shook his head as if to clear it, and then stood and walked over to Abby, placing both hands gently on her shoulders. "We'll find them, Abby."

She turned until she was facing him, her large green eyes looking up directly into his warm brown ones. "Promise?"

He nodded, desperately hoping this was a promise he could keep.

~0~

"You should go."

The first words from DiNozzo in nearly an hour were so quiet Gibbs almost didn't hear them. He let his gaze run over the wounded man, noting that although the sheen of fever was still present on his face, his green eyes were once again lucid. He gave the suggestion all the consideration he felt it deserved, promptly ignoring it.

DiNozzo shifted restlessly, trying to find a position that didn't hurt quite as much, his free hand weakly pushing against the now-bloody rag Gibbs had pressed into his side only a short time before. He looked over to the stairway of the damp basement they were being held captive in as if listening for the sound of a key turning in the locked door. "She'll be back, you know," he stated almost conversationally. "She may be a whack job who's gone off the deep end, but I'm pretty sure she's with it enough to know it's a bad idea to leave us alive to track her down." His voice was raspy and thin, but his conviction was firm.

Gibbs glared at him as a matter of course, raising his own cuffed hand in wordless explanation. "Where the hell am I supposed to go, DiNozzo? We've got no car, and we're in the middle of freakin' nowhere."

Tony coughed, and Gibbs froze, waiting to see if the deep, wet, barking would continue to the point where the younger man was unable to breathe. When Tony was able to control it after only a few moments, Jethro relaxed fractionally, his gaze once more focusing on his senior field agent's face.

Tony took as deep a breath as his beleaguered lungs would allow and persevered, certain he was right. "That's my point, Gibbs. Any chance of us getting out of here has to be with you. Because we both know I'm not going anywhere."

Gibbs shook his head at his agent's lack of subtlety. He knew 'us getting out of here' translated into 'you getting out of here'. If he left DiNozzo behind, he was certain any rescue he managed to return with would be too late to help him, and the young man would find his way back to NCIS only as a guest on one of Ducky's tables. An absolutely unacceptable option. No way in hell was he leaving a man behind.

Especially not this man.

He said as much. "Not leaving you, DiNozzo."

Tony allowed his head to drift to the side, breaking the eye contact he'd struggled to maintain. His voice, when he spoke, was barely a whisper, carrying a world of hurt behind the words.

"Not like you haven't before. . ."

~0~

Ziva glanced across the bullpen towards McGee, wondering what he was working on as she listened to his incessant pecking at the keyboard. She closed the file on her desk, tired of staring at the autopsy report and the few details they had on the case. She pulled out the transcript of the wife's testimony, intent on reading through it once again and doing her best to think like DiNozzo. If he had seen something to suspect the wife, then perhaps she could too, even if she didn't entirely understand how Tony's mind worked. There were few who could claim they did. When Tony's desk phone rang, her eyes shot up to meet McGee's, who stopped typing immediately.

"Think that's them?" he asked hopefully.

"Why would Tony call his own phone?"

McGee deflated. "Right. You're right. Dumb idea."

"Perhaps we should answer it."

"His voicemail will pick it up," McGee pointed out even as he stood and moved closer to Tony's desk.

"Yes. It will," Ziva agreed, standing as well.

"So we should probably just, you know, let it go." Tim edged closer to the telephone.

"It is most likely just one of his baggy bunnies." She crossed over to stand in front of the desk.

"His flavor of the week," Tim agreed, staring now at the phone as it continued to ring.

"It would be an invasion of his privacy," she stated, her hand reaching out tentatively.

Tim beat her to the punch as his hand shot out and grabbed the handset before the ringing ceased. He spoke into the unit, his gaze meeting Ziva's once again. "Special Agent DiNozzo's phone," he said to the caller.

Ziva watched with limited patience.

"I'm sorry, he's not here right now. This is Special Agent McGee. May I take a message?"

She rolled her eyes at his perfect phone manners.

"No, I don't know when he'll be back." He listened for a moment. "Okay, one second please," he stated, motioning to Ziva for a pen and paper.

She pivoted and grabbed one off her desk, handing it to him quickly.

"Yes . . . okay . . . she did? And when was that?" Another pause. "Do you have the name and number of the company? Really? No, that's fantastic. That will help a lot. Thank you. . . yes, I'll be sure and tell him you called." McGee hung up the phone as Ziva tapped her foot impatiently.

"Well?" she demanded.

"That was Geoff, a friend of Tony's. He owns a rental car company, and said Tony had left a message for him, asking him to check on something for the Lawrence case." He finished writing the message and stood, turning to face Ziva head on. "He checked the state records for rentals, and it turns out Mrs. Lawrence rented a car the day her husband went missing . . ."

"Which means the standard check we did on her own vehicle for blood and trace evidence was useless. . ." Ziva interrupted.

"Because if she did dump the body at the training grounds, she could have used the rental car to do it." McGee finished for her. "Which means . . . "

"That Tony was probably right." Ziva sighed and looked at Tim forlornly. "You realize he will be absolutely insufferable about this."

"Maybe," Tim agreed, thoughtfully. "Though right now, I think I could almost put up with it." He moved around to his desk and sat down, pulling up a new window on his computer. "The guy gave me the VIN on the rental car, and said it has a built-in GPS system. Give me a minute . . . and I should be able to pull up a history of where it's been."

Ziva came and stood next to him, looking over his shoulder and rubbing absently at her stomach. It took her a minute, but she finally recognized what she was feeling.

So that's what Abby meant by 'hinky'.

~0~

Gibbs took a deep breath, trying not to reveal exactly how much Tony's words had hurt. What hurt more, though, was that he was unable to deny the truth in them. That emotion left him feeling off balance, and as was typical with him, he reacted with anger.

"I didn't leave," he defended himself. "I retired."

Tony snorted, clearly showing his opinion on that. "If that's what you want to go with. . ." he said sarcastically, struggling to sit up a bit higher.

"It's the truth. My leaving had nothing to do with you, or with anyone else on the team. You _know_ why I left." Gibbs heard the words leave his mouth, but even he wasn't sure that was the truth. It was quite possible DiNozzo had no clue as to why he really left, and he damned sure wasn't going to enlighten the younger man.

"Yeah, we were just the collateral damage."

The phrase hit Gibbs hard, and his mind rewound once again to the image of the Cape Fear exploding on the screen in MTAC. He reigned his thoughts in. That event had been the catalyst for his decision to leave, but it wasn't what was important now. He stared straight ahead, realizing he didn't really have a leg to stand on, but feeling the anger and disappointment in himself take a firmer hold. He was about to put an end to the conversation when DiNozzo spoke again.

"No matter what you want to call it, you left us, Gibbs. Left us high and dry without so much as a chance to talk to you about it. Left us with no way to get in touch with you if we needed you."

"Abby had a number," Gibbs pointed out stubbornly.

"Shitload of good that did the rest of us."

Gibbs winced. The language was crude, and not something he was used to hearing from his second's mouth given DiNozzo's silver spoon upbringing. Its presence now did plenty to raise his awareness of how much he had screwed up where the senior field agent was concerned.

Tony took a breath and continued. "You cut and run, Gibbs. Handed over your team, your job – the two things I know matter to you more than _anything_ else, and you handed them over to me without so much as a backwards glance. Never prepared me; never gave me any training or time to transition."

Gibbs jumped on that, ready to defend himself again, anger bleeding through into his tone. "I trained you for six years, DiNozzo. You were ready to take over the team."

"But I didn't want to!" Tony yelled into the damp night air, the stillness that followed his outburst only serving to emphasize its depth of feeling.

Gibbs said nothing, unsure of what his response should be. He'd always believed DiNozzo would be chomping at the bit to get his own team, to throw off the shackles of Gibbs' leadership and do things in his own decidedly different way, and he'd been confident that Tony was ready to accept that responsibility. He would never have left his team in Tony's care otherwise.

Tony's next words were far quieter, the hoarseness of his voice a reminder to both of them that it would do no good for the agent to become too wound up. But there were things that needed to be said, and Tony was sick of holding his tongue where Gibbs was concerned. "You gave me no warning. Nothing. No tips on how to handle things, no insights on how to deal with the Director, no words of wisdom. '_You'll do_,'" he spat out. "What the hell is that supposed to mean anyway?"

"Exactly that," Gibbs countered. "You think I would have given my team over to just anybody?" His voice bristled and he fought to keep his anger in control.

"I didn't think you'd give them over at all! They were _your _team, Gibbs, and they always _will_ be! Do you have any idea how hard it was to be your stand-in? To try and live up to the memory of _you, _to fill_ your _shoes? McGee and Ziva, they weren't interested in taking orders from somebody like me, and they let me know that as often as possible. Didn't matter that I had years of seniority on both of them – they figured they could do a better job leading the team than I could. And they were probably right."

Gibbs hated to hear the self-derision in Tony's words. He knew his agent suffered from the most exasperating mix of self-confidence and insecurity, but it always killed him to hear that DiNozzo truly thought at times that he was worthless. He moved to set Tony straight, but Tony jumped back in before he could get a word out.

"And Abby – she could barely make it through the day without sobbing as if her heart were broken. Which it _was_. You left more than a team behind, Gibbs. Abby thinks of you as family, and you turned tail and ran because you didn't like the way things were done. Well, I've got news for you, _Boss_," the word said with derision, "life doesn't always go just the way you think it should. Yeah, it sucks that all those sailors died when they didn't have to. And knowing that it was being covered up – I get what that must have meant to a Marine like you."

Tony took a moment to concentrate on the simple act of breathing, knowing the anger that had fueled his outburst was draining him too fast, that he wouldn't last much longer. He could feel his body weakening and knew he wouldn't have much left to argue with, but he pushed on. "You could have stayed, and fought to make it right. Done something, somehow, so those guys didn't die in vain. I don't know what. But I always figured the great Leroy Jethro Gibbs would. You could have stayed." He coughed once, hard, before repeating himself. "You _should _have stayed."

Gibbs knew DiNozzo was right. He knew it with all that was in him, that leaving had been a mistake. That he should have known better. That he _had_ cut and run, and that he'd been an idiot to think he could just waltz back in four months later as if nothing had changed. To say that aloud, though, was something he thought might be beyond him. His rule about apologies being a sign of weakness wasn't just a suggestion, it was a code by which he lived and breathed. To admit to that weakness now, to the one person whose respect mattered to him more than anything else was more than he was capable of. He had to say something, though, because it was no longer possible to ignore the elephant that had been in the room with them since his return.

He turned his head and stared silently at the man beside him, the man who had stood beside him longer than any other partner he had, the man who meant more to him that any co-worker or teammate should. Abby wasn't the only one that considered this team her family, though Gibbs had little chance of getting the man at his side to believe that now. Hoping the words would come once he opened his mouth, he reached out and gently took hold of the wounded agent's chin, forcing DiNozzo's gaze up to meet his own.

"Tony . . . "

The noise of a door slamming overhead startled both men, and Gibbs paused in what he was about to say. The footsteps entering were light but determined, and Gibbs made out just the hint of fear in Tony's eyes before it disappeared, his mask sliding back into place as the young man spoke.

"Boss, I think we've got company."

TBC . . .

Thanks once again to AZGirl for a superb beta job!


	13. Hope on the Horizon

Chapter Twelve

Abby bounded off the elevator, her hands wringing nervously, and she made her way to the rear of the bullpen. Her eyes automatically went to Gibbs' desk, hoping that he had miraculously appeared and they had just forgotten to tell her, but the desk remained stubbornly empty. A quick glance to Tony's area told her nothing had changed there either, and she felt her anxiety amp up another notch. Turning, she moved to stand in front of McGee's desk and stood there impatiently until he looked up from his screen.

She looked at him in disappointment. "I had something. And you didn't show up," she began, "but I'm going to cut you some slack this time, because I know you're just kind of standing in, and that's okay. I don't expect you to be Gibbs. Or even Tony. Because you're not. Gibbs. Or Tony. You're McGee, and that's good too." She shifted her weight from platformed heel to platformed heel.

McGee put aside his search on the GPS information and gave her his full attention, knowing that she had come to expect immediate appearances from both senior agents whenever she made a discovery that was pertinent to the case. He had often wondered what it would be like to be the one in charge; to be the one she waited to relay her finds to. He decided that this was most definitely not the way he wanted to find out. Tony and Gibbs would be back. They would be okay. They had to be.

Still, he gave it a shot. "What have you got, Abs?"

She tilted her head and studied him for a moment. "Not bad. Needs a little work though."

"Abby," he repeated, a hint of warning bleeding through his tone.

She nodded. "Better. So, I've been analyzing the photos." She handed him a flash drive, which he inserted into his USB port, and she waited while he loaded the pictures onto the plasma screen.

"And you found something?" Ziva asked, coming over to stand beside them.

"Not much, really. But there was something in the corner of the photo, and I couldn't quite figure out what it was. So I blew it up and bolstered the resolution, and I think I've got it. It's a book," she said, stepping forward and pointing out a blur in the right hand corner.

"Okay . . ." McGee stretched the word out, obviously not following Abby's train of thought.

"McGee! Don't you see?" Abby persisted.

"Well, yeah, I can see that it's a book. But what does that mean, exactly?"

Abby rolled her eyes at him and placed her hands on her hips. "It means, Mr. MIT, that the camera was planted. You know, like hidden on a bookshelf. This wasn't a case of the corporals taking the pictures themselves for their own odd enjoyment. They didn't know the camera was there."

"And yet the pictures were found in Corporal Edward's photo software, not in his email," Ziva commented.

"Exactly! And they were uploaded, not downloaded."

Tim finally knew where she was going. "Which means they most likely came from the only other person who had access to the Lance Corporal's computer."

Abby smiled. "His wife."

"Which means we have evidence to support our theory," Ziva finished. "Or rather, Tony's theory. Gibbs will be pleased."

Abby bit her lip, feeling the worry return. "Now we just need to be able to tell him."

~0~

Tony had barely finished speaking before the coughing began again. After listening to the wet, barking sound for only a few seconds, Gibbs knew this wouldn't be like the other times, where Tony was able to calm his breathing and stop the coughing on his own. No, this was escalating out of control, and he could see the hint of panic return to DiNozzo's face, but what worried him more was the sheer exhaustion. He could see that the other man didn't have a whole lot of fight left in him. Gibbs watched as Tony slumped to the side away from him, bent in half and nearly laying on the floor, struggling for every breath. The older man knew it would be almost impossible for his agent to control his breathing in that position.

It took a fair amount of maneuvering with the their hands cuffed to the pipe on the wall, but Gibbs was able to get behind DiNozzo enough to lift the younger man into a sitting position, laying Tony back against his own chest and reminding him to breathe, in and out to the count of three. He repeated the words over and over, keeping his voice even and his tone peaceful, even though his own sense of calm was in danger of shattering. But DiNozzo needed him to be strong right now; needed Gibbs to talk him through this, as if Tony believed death itself wouldn't dare defy the team leader. And Gibbs thought perhaps at one point Tony had believed that, but he was fairly certain that now all bets were off.

Still, Gibbs would work to be what Tony had needed him to be so long ago, when the simple order to live had been enough to ensure his loyal St. Bernard of an agent would do so. Because despite the anger and the hurt that Gibbs knew was eating away at his senior field agent, he still believed that deep down, DiNozzo needed Gibbs, even if he wouldn't admit it.

Whether it was Gibbs' words, or his presence, or simply the fact that he now literally had DiNozzo's back, the coughing eventually drifted off, and a beaten DiNozzo dropped his head back to rest on Gibbs' shoulder while the rattled sounds of shallow breaths filled the air around them.

It was then that they heard the sounds of a key being turned in the lock of the door to the basement, followed by footsteps coming down. Uncertain if it was friend or foe, Gibbs dropped his left hand to his thigh, clasping it around the belt knife that was lying next to him. He glanced down at DiNozzo, glad to see there was still a spark of what made Tony _Tony_ in there. The young man had more of a survivor's spirit than anyone Gibbs had ever met, and he was counting on that now to keep Tony alive until they could get out of this mess.

His hand tightened around the knife when Carol Lawrence stepped off the final stair and into the basement. She held a gun in her right hand, her grip awkward and uncertain.

DiNozzo looked up and stage whispered to Gibbs in a roughened sing-song voice, "She's ba-ack."

A look of amused exasperation flitted over Gibbs' features, but he remained silent.

"Shut up," Lawrence ordered.

"Oh, come on," Tony responded, struggling once again to push himself into a better sitting position. His voice lacked strength, but his eyes were determined. "Classic Poltergeist reference. Surely you've seen the movie? Steven Spielberg flick from 1982 with Craig Nelson and JoBeth Williams. First of three, though the other two weren't even worth seeing. I hate sequels." He sounded out of breath, and he blinked his eyes slowly, as if keeping them open was too much work.

"DiNozzo," Gibbs said warningly, but inwardly, he approved of the way Tony was baiting the woman, keeping her distracted. He shifted for a better grip on the knife, which felt foreign in his left hand.

She remained at the bottom of the stairs, her eyes trained on the two men in front of her, seeing the way that Gibbs was the only thing keeping Tony upright. Her gaze focused in on Jethro, and she nodded towards Tony. "He doesn't look so good."

"Might have something to do with the bullet you put into him," Gibbs responded, placing the blame fully on her shoulders despite the fact that it was Tony's own plague-weakened lungs that were turning on him. Gibbs noticed the way the woman shifted nervously, the distraction evident in the way her eyes kept darting around the small room.

"It wasn't supposed to happen this way. I never meant for anyone to get hurt. Except Eddie, I mean. But now . . ." her voice trailed off, and she half-heartedly pushed a strand of hair behind her ear as the hand that was holding the gun drifted downward.

Gibbs wondered, as he took in the dazed look in her eyes, if she had taken something. Her movements seemed off, and her hands shook where she held the gun. His own hand shifted slightly, bringing the knife up to a better position, watching and waiting for his moment.

Lawrence took a deep breath and worked to pull herself together, bringing the gun up and pointing it at DiNozzo. "I don't want to have to do this. But it's the only way. I'm sorry." She fired the weapon, the noise deafening as the sound bounced off the damp walls.

~0~

"I'm such an _idiot_!" McGee yelled, standing up from his computer so fast that his chair tipped backwards. "I can't believe I didn't see this!" He opened his drawer and grabbed his weapon, shoving it roughly into the holster at his side while reaching down for his backpack.

When Ziva noticed he was gearing up, she quickly followed suit. Abby jumped up from where she sat in Gibbs' chair just as Ducky emerged from the back of the bullpen. "Didn't see what, Timothy?"

"I finally got the information from the rental car's GPS downloaded."

"Was there a match? Did you see an address you recognized?" Abby asked hopefully, coming alongside him.

"Yeah, there was a match. Boone's Mill, Virginia. The car spent nearly _three days_ in Boone's Mill. I can't believe I'm such an idiot!"

"Dear boy, how does this discovery make you an idiot?" Ducky questioned.

"Because I'm the one that found that address and gave it to Gibbs in the first place! There's some property there that belongs to the Lance Corporal's family. I should have realized Gibbs was checking it out. We could have been there by now if I had just figured it out a little sooner." He shook his head, disgusted with himself.

Abby walked over and wrapped her arms around him. "It's okay, McGee. You couldn't have known for sure. But you know now. So you're going to go rescue them, right? Because even though we don't know that they're in trouble, I think they would have called us by now just to check in. So you should definitely drive down there. In fact, let Ziva drive. You'll get there sooner." She nodded as she stepped back, confident in this fact.

"Yes, I agree with Abigail. I do think you should proceed with expediency. Young Anthony did not look at all well when he came in this morning," Ducky commented.

"You noticed too?" Abby whimpered in fear for her friend, facing Ducky.

Ducky moved to put his arm around her. "I'm sure it was nothing," he backpedaled, his eyes relaying a different story to McGee and Ziva. "But I still believe it would be a good idea to check up on them. In fact, perhaps I shall go along as well, on the off chance my expertise is needed."

"Please hurry then, Doctor," Ziva requested, grabbing the keys to one of the agency sedans. "I believe we should get on the road as soon as possible."

"Indeed I shall," Ducky said, hastening away for a few supplies, for once not launching into a story of a similar incident.

Abby watched as the three of them left, hating that she was once again left behind to wait and to worry. It was times like this that she wished she could just _do _something; something that would help her boys. A thought suddenly occurred to her, and she realized there _was_ something she could do. Smiling to herself, she reached for the phone.

~0~

The noise of the weapon report sounded like a death knell to DiNozzo's ears, and he braced himself for the pain that he knew was coming, certain that this would be it. There was no way he'd survive another bullet wound. It was looking doubtful he'd even survive the first. But this was not the way he wanted to go out – cuffed to a pipe and shot down like a fish in a barrel. _So much for the blaze of glory_. On the edge of his horizon, he registered the look of shock on Carol Lawrence's face as she jerked back and slowly fell to the ground, and in an obscure part of his mind, he wondered if the kick of the gun had been too much for her.

When a few moments had passed and it registered that the reason he felt no additional pain was not due to numbness, but because he hadn't received another injury, Tony panicked in earnest. He didn't see how she could have shot Gibbs since Tony covered most of the older man's body, but his muddled mind could only focus on the fear that Gibbs was dead, that the man who meant more to him than anyone else in the world was gone, and the last words they'd spoken to one another had been in anger. "Boss!" he called in trepidation, putting real effort into turning around to see for himself how badly his friend and mentor had been wounded. "Are you hit?" He relaxed fractionally when he heard an amused snort behind him.

"Nope," Gibbs replied, not bothering to elaborate. "You alright?"

Tony aborted his attempt to turn around when the pain in his abdomen returned in waves, and he fought to keep down the meager amount of food he had eaten. He forced his tired brain to work through its confusion. "She missed?"

"Sort of," Gibbs answered ambiguously.

"Okay. Good. That's good." His voice weakened until it was barely a mumble. "Don't feel so good, Boss," he stated unnecessarily, before his head rolled back limply onto Gibbs' shoulder.

~0~

"DiNozzo!" Gibbs said sharply, hoping to awaken the wounded man, but he knew it might be pointless, and rather than waste time trying to rouse him, he realized what Tony most needed from him was to work on getting them the hell out of here, now. Gibbs turned his head and watched the woman as she floundered on the ground, DiNozzo's knife now fully embedded in her right thigh. Left-handed throw or not, he was feeling rather proud of himself. The gun she carried had skittered away when she fell, not close enough for Gibbs to reach, but not close enough for her to either. He would give nearly anything to be able to get out of these cuffs and go finish the job of immobilizing her, but for now he could do nothing but wait to see if she gained her feet again.

She pushed herself up on one arm and looked at him, reaching for the knife.

"Don't," he warned, but it was too late, and she pulled the knife out reflexively before falling back, screeching and writhing in pain.

Bright red blood was pouring from the wound, and Gibbs knew that while his aim may not have been true, he still hit his mark. The injury would indeed prove fatal if the bleeding wasn't controlled. There was a sense of vindication in that fact, after all the bitch had put them through, but his sense of honor and duty wouldn't allow him to just leave her there to die. He pulled himself out from behind DiNozzo, laying the other man gently to the ground, and scooted down the pipe until he could touch the woman. Snagging the hem of her pant leg, he dragged her close enough to apply what remained of Tony's belt as a tourniquet, not really caring if the action might cause her to eventually lose her leg. Without it she would most certainly bleed out.

When he had done what he could for her, he dragged her now unconscious form closer and reached a hand into her pocket. Lady Luck was with him as his fingers latched onto his own keys. Removing them, he found the small key and quickly dealt with the cuffs that had encumbered him, taking them and placing them on Lawrence's wrists before turning and removing Tony's cuffs as well. He shifted up to DiNozzo's head and gently tapped his cheek, calling his name, relieved to see hazy green eyes opening to gaze back at him.

"'M up," DiNozzo said unconvincingly.

"Up and at 'em, DiNozzo. You've got a date with a doctor."

"Jeanne's here?" he asked, looking around groggily.

"What?" Gibbs asked in confusion, before realizing the woman Tony was seeing must be a physician. Filing that information away for later, he shook his head. "No, Tony. But we've got to get you to a hospital."

"K," Tony agreed listlessly.

The lack of argument concerned Gibbs more than anything else. Generally the only DiNozzo that would take a trip to the hospital without putting up a fight was an unconscious DiNozzo. Gibbs recognized his senior field agent wasn't far from that now. He pulled Tony into a sitting position, hoping DiNozzo was up to at least assisting him to ascend the stairs. He didn't relish the idea of carrying the bigger man fireman style, knowing it would be painful for both of them, but he would if he had to.

As Tony struggled to his feet, his eyes still closed, Gibbs glanced again at the woman lying there who had caused them so much trouble. The bleeding had slowed but not stopped and Gibbs knew that she too needed medical attention.

But DiNozzo came first. In Gibbs' mind, he always would.

It took nearly five minutes to reach the top of the stairs, with multiple stops and times when it was all Tony could do to stay conscious, but they made it. Gibbs was just about to set Tony down on the couch while he went out and got the car ready for them to move, when he heard the screen door slam once more. Cursing himself for not retrieving the gun downstairs when he had a chance, he dropped DiNozzo to the couch as gently as he could and turned, preparing to fight the unknown intruder.

Seeing the local sheriff standing there was the last thing he expected, but Gibbs knew better than to look a gift horse in the mouth, and he started barking out orders. "There's an unconscious woman cuffed down in the basement. She's responsible for the murder of her husband and for shooting my agent. You'll need to get someone out here for her." He rapidly changed subjects. "Is there a hospital nearby?"

The fifty-something man removed the hat he was wearing and rubbed his hair, not used to being bossed around. "I reckon you must be Gibbs," he stated, almost amused at how the man facing him matched the information he'd received from the young lady he'd spoken to on the phone. "One of my men is on the way," he confirmed. "And there's a community hospital about fifteen miles from the center of town. Want me to call for an ambulance?" he offered, willing to overlook the silver-haired man's angry countenance in light of his wounded partner.

"Be faster if we drove him ourselves. Can you get us there?"

"I can," he nodded, his demeanor calm and confident. "Hal should be pulling up by the time we get your man in the car."

Gibbs didn't bother to respond, returning his attention to DiNozzo, who had once again lapsed into unconsciousness, his breathing harsh and painful sounding. The sound brought back more memories of Tony's battle against the severe pneumonia that had followed the plague. He had ordered him not to die then, and it had worked, but he couldn't help but think that more might be called for now. He leaned close to Tony, laying a hand on his head, and spoke quietly but firmly into his ear. "You need to hold on, Tony, you hear me? We've got a conversation to finish."

Knowing Tony's insatiable curiosity and hoping the promise of answers would be enough to keep DiNozzo fighting, he held onto to his own hope that he wouldn't be called upon to give up yet another member of his family.

TBC . . .

_A/N: I'd like to apologize for the delay - real life has gotten chaotic with the start of a second job, and it will probably continue to be icky for a bit. So while I may not be able to keep up with my weekly posting schedule, I'd like to assure you that this story will not be forgotten, and I'll do everything I can to keep posting in a timely manner! In the meantime, I'd like to thank AZGirl for not only her beta skills, but for her wonderful encouragement! And thanks also to all of you who have reviewed, especially those who do so faithfully - your feedback is better than my daily dose of chocolate. I am overwhelmed. And though I try to reply to all personally, for those who have your PM feature turned off, please know that you too are appreciated!_


	14. Waiting Game

_Chapter Thirteen_

The hard plastic chair dug into Gibbs's back where he sat upon it in the waiting room of the small community hospital that they had carried DiNozzo into forty-five minutes ago. That had been the last Gibbs had seen of him, as they placed the wounded man onto a stretcher and hurried off behind closed doors, leaving him standing there covered in Tony's blood. When Jethro would have stormed the trauma room where Tony was being worked on, the sheriff had stepped in and all but dragged Gibbs over to the chairs, doing his best to convince the older man that he needed to give the doctors room to work on his agent.

Introducing himself formally as Sheriff George Fulton, he left Gibbs long enough to search out a cup of coffee for the man who looked as if he wasn't doing too well in his own right. A few minutes after the sheriff had left, a young woman in blue came over with a slew of paperwork that Gibbs dutifully took, filling out the questions on Tony and his medical history from memory. He'd done this particular task more times than he cared to recall.

Sheriff Fulton returned as he was finishing up the last few pages, a white paper cup full of steaming hot coffee in each hand.

"Wasn't sure how you took it, so I left it black," he said, handing one of the cups over.

Gibbs nodded his thanks. "Black is fine."

George eased himself into the chair next to Gibbs. "You a Marine?" he asked, taking a sip of his own coffee.

Gibbs glanced at him and merely nodded. He wasn't up for conversation; not when he had no idea what was happening to DiNozzo, or if Tony was even still alive. That knowledge alone was eating away at him, and he sat doing his own form of praying, begging a God who he wasn't sure he wanted to know anymore not to take the only man Gibbs had ever considered his son. Shannon and Kelly had been enough. He couldn't survive this loss too.

"Figured, what with the haircut and all." He removed his hat, revealing a similar style. "Gunnery Sergeant myself. Still in the Reserves. Once a Marine, always a Marine."

Gibbs made a non-committal grunt, which the other man apparently took for permission to continue.

"Your girl – Abby, I think her name was – she described you to a tee when she called in her concerns."

This got Gibbs attention. He hadn't thought to ask how the Sheriff had suddenly shown up at the Lawrence property. "Abby called you?" he asked, his voice graveled with exhaustion.

"Yup. Sounds perky, that one does. She was real worried though. Asked if I'd head on over to the property just to check on you. Dang sure wasn't expecting what I found though – wounded federal agent and a suspect with a hole in her leg? They're bringing her in now, by the way. Hal said the ambulance made it over to the house in decent time. He's riding with her, keeping her cuffed, but he left Willie out at the property to secure things there."

Gibbs nodded, his thoughts still on his senior agent. He knew he had to focus on the crime and what still needed to be done, but just once he wished he could push the job aside and allow himself the luxury of worrying about his teammate and friend. He released a long breath and ran a shaky hand through his hair, hoping no one noticed the minor tremble. He stood as a woman in scrubs came through the doors carrying a plastic bag. She looked around the small waiting room and then made her way towards them.

"Are you here with Mr. DiNozzo?" she asked.

"Special Agent DiNozzo," Gibbs corrected wearily, not sure why it mattered, but knowing it did. "Very Special Agent DiNozzo," he added quietly, feeling the need to use Tony's preferred name for himself.

The young woman eyed him uncertainly. "Okay," she confirmed. "Sorry. These are Special Agent DiNozzo's things, if you'd like to hold onto them for him." She handed him the bag, which he took in his free hand.

"How is he?" he asked before she could flee.

"I'm sorry, I don't know. They're still working on him. Someone should be out to speak with you as soon as they can." She turned and scurried off, the blue of her scrubs disappearing back through the doors with a swish.

Gibbs watched her go, sitting in the waiting room holding Tony's things and feeling more than a bit lost. He knew he needed to pull it together; knew he needed to get his game face back on, but right now, he couldn't seem to care. His thoughts drifted back over the words Tony had said, the anger in them piercing his soul as Tony had accused him of leaving them high and dry. DiNozzo had been right, of course, but Gibbs had only been concerned with himself, never thinking of the cost to Tony or Abby or the rest of the team. And once he had found himself in Mexico, he'd spent his days trying to put his life back together again, the loss of Shannon and Kelly far too fresh in his mind for him to worry about what was happening back home. Mike Franks had given him shelter and space, both of which Gibbs had desperately needed at the time.

Now, though, that need for space had caused a rift between he and Tony that Gibbs was desperate to repair. It no longer mattered to him what it took to fix the damage – if an apology was what Tony needed, Gibbs would be glad to give it to him.

He just hoped he'd get the chance.

"Coffee's getting cold."

Gibbs heard the voice to his right and turned to see the Sheriff standing next to him, compassion and pity in his eyes. The sight of it was enough to spur Jethro on, putting his raging emotions behind him, and giving him the focus he needed. Leroy Jethro Gibbs was not a man anyone should pity, no matter the circumstances.

"I need a phone," he said abruptly, taking another swig of the lukewarm beverage as he rose to his feet. "Need to call my team, and my cell's still back at the house." Belatedly, he remembered Tony's cell phone that he had put into his own pocket back in the basement. Pulling it out, he saw there was still no service, so he dropped it back in.

"There's a cubicle over here they set aside for EMS and Law Enforcement. I reckon you can make your calls from there." Sheriff Fulton pointed the way.

Once inside, Gibbs debated on whom to call first. Knowing he'd need more time to deal with Abby and her emotional response, he searched his memory for McGee's number, momentarily regretting utilizing the speed dial function so often. Unable to come up with the number, he called Ducky instead. The older man answered after three rings.

"This is Dr. Mallard."

"Duck, it's me."

"Jethro! Thanks heavens. We've been worried. Are you and Anthony both okay?"

"I'm fine. Tony – not so much."

"Oh, dear. I rather thought he was looking a tad under the weather this morning. Am I to assume I was correct?"

"Yeah, Duck," Gibbs answered, the weariness evident in his tone. "He's sick." The word seemed so small in comparison to Tony's current situation, but Gibbs was unable to come up with any better description.

His concern came through to Ducky loud and clear, however, the elderly medical examiner well versed in dealing with his friend of few words. "Tell me his symptoms," he requested without preamble.

"Fever. Cough – nasty, wet sounding. Sounds like . . . sounds like before." There was no need to elaborate on what he was referring to.

"Where are you?"

"At the hospital in . . . hell, I don't even know where. Near Boone's Mill, Virginia. There's more, Duck. Tony was shot by our suspect." Gibbs went on to fill in the older man on exactly what had transpired, glossing over the events in only a few minutes. "I need to get in touch with McGee, but I don't have his number."

"He's with me, Jethro. He and Ziva both. In fact, I've already put you on speaker. We ascertained that you might need assistance, so we set out a few hours ago. We should be to Boone's Mill in another hour and a half. The hospital is the best place for Anthony right now. Let them do their job; they'll take care of him."

"Yeah." Gibbs rubbed the back of his neck. "It's a pretty small place. I haven't heard anything since we brought him in."

Ducky could hear the underlying fear in Gibbs' voice, and he wished he could be there to offer his support. "Small or not, I'm sure they'll do their best for him, Jethro. You need to have hope. Our Tony is a fighter, and he won't give up easily." Even as he said the words, Ducky realized that all the fighting spirit in the world might not be enough to save Anthony, but he was loath to admit it to the man on the phone.

Gibbs tuned out at the sound of compassion in the older man's voice. "Let me talk to McGee."

"I'm here, Boss," McGee chimed in.

"I need you and Ziva to get out to the Lawrence property and process the scene. Suspect's in custody. Make sure you get the house, especially the basement where Tony and I were held. Oh, and don't forget the storage shed out back – looks like that's our murder scene."

"Boss, can't we stop at the hospital first? Just to see how Tony is?" McGee asked, even though he already knew the answer.

"I need you at the scene, McGee. I'm not letting this bitch get away with anything just because the chain of evidence was broken. There's a LEO on the scene right now, but I want our people out there, and right now, you and Ziva are all I've got."

McGee tried not to let his disappointment bleed through his tone. "On it, Boss."

Gibbs pushed the button, effectively severing the connection between them. He paused to catch his breath before calling Abby, stopping mid-dial when he saw one of the ER physicians push their way through the double doors where Tony had disappeared nearly an hour ago. He immediately stood and left the cubicle, moving to intercept the doctor even as he called out for the family of Anthony DiNozzo.

"That's me," Gibbs answered, knowing in his heart it was nothing less than the truth. "How is he?"

"Stable, for the moment, Mr. . . .?

"Agent Gibbs."

The tall, balding man in wrinkled and stained scrubs nodded, not bothering to offer his own name, sensing the man to whom he was speaking would prefer to stick to business. "Agent DiNozzo's condition is still critical, though, and I've called for LifeStar to take him over to Carilion Roanoke Memorial for the surgery."

"You can't do the surgery here?"

"I'm sorry; no. We're a Level Three Trauma Center. We're not equipped, either with facilities or staff, to effectively manage a trauma of this magnitude. Our job is to get him stable enough to travel to a facility that can handle his case. We've already given him two liters of blood and packed the wound, but he needs the surgery to repair the damage and stop the bleeding. Plus there is the complication with his lungs. We've got him on a CPAP machine – it's a device that delivers positive airway pressure – to fight against the fluid building in his lungs. We're hopeful it will be enough to maintain his respirations, but we're prepared to intubate should it become necessary."

"So he's awake right now?"

"No. He's been marginally aware a few times, but for the most part, he's unresponsive, which is actually better for him while he's on the CPAP. It's less invasive than intubation, but some patients still find it difficult to tolerate. His oxygen level is still lower than I'd like it to be. I think it's best for him to get to a higher level of care as soon as possible." He untied the mask that still hung loosely around his neck. "The chopper should be here any minute. Can you get transportation to the hospital?"

"I want him going to Bethesda," Gibbs spoke with determination.

The young doctor began shaking his head. "I don't recommend it. Carilion is much closer, and your friend needs the surgery to stop the bleeding. Let them patch him up there, and then they can see about transferring him to Bethesda."

Gibbs hesitated, hating that being Tony's next of kin placed him in the position of having to make this type of decision. He wished Ducky were here to advise him. Regardless, he couldn't ignore the fact that nobody knew Tony's pulmonary issues better than Dr. Brad Pitt. Gibbs had seen the way DiNozzo had struggled to breathe even before he was shot, and his gut was telling him that it was the respiratory issue that was going to give DiNozzo the most trouble. "The CPAP machine – it will keep him breathing?"

The doctor nodded. "It should."

"And if not, they can intubate him mid-flight, right?"

"They're equipped to do that, yes, but I don't recommend . . ."

"Take him to Bethesda," Gibbs stated firmly, once again going with his gut.

He just hoped today wouldn't be the first time his gut let him down.

~0~

Abby sat by the phone in her lab, unable to twirl on her stool or play with her babies, or do anything other than hold her head in her hands and stare forlornly at the picture of her, Tony and Gibbs on her computer taken at the Christmas party two years ago. Her lab was silent, the lack of her music deafening simply by its absence.

She hated waiting.

All kinds of scenarios ran through her brain without restraint, and she could hardly console herself with the possibility that they wouldn't come true. Because this was Tony. And nobody on the planet had worse luck than Tony.

It was a small consolation that the one with the vampires probably was the least likely of the options. The other possibilities included knife wounds, gunshots, getting run over by a semi, and a plane crash. That last one was also unlikely, because she knew Tony had no plans to fly anytime soon. But there was always the chance one would fall out of the air and land right on top of him. If it could happen to anyone, it would happen to Tony.

She hugged Bert tighter, not even smiling at the noise he made, and stared harder at the picture, doing her best to think positive thoughts.

The phone rang, and she started. Snatching it up, she spoke quickly into the receiver. "Gibbs! Oh, please be Gibbs, please be Gibbs."

"It's me, Abs," she heard a weary voice confirm on the other end.

"Oh my gosh, Gibbs! Tell me you guys are okay!"

"I'm okay. But Tony . . . " he didn't have the heart to say it out loud, knowing how the news of Tony's situation would effect his forensic scientist.

"Gibbs," she pleaded, her voice a whisper, "tell me he's okay."

"Wish I could, Abs," his tone sounding old and defeated.

Abby felt a tear escape down her cheek, and she let out a tremulous breath. "But he will be, right?"

Gibbs said nothing, unable to promise her something that might not come true.

Abby rallied, her determination and spirit coming forth to take over. "Yes. Of course he will be. Because this is Tony. And Tony's like a bouncy ball, or one of those blow-up clowns that you punch, and they spring right back up for more. He always bounces back, and he will this time, too. Just you wait and see. He's our own personal Weeble."

"Weeble, Abs?" Gibbs questioned with just the barest touch of exasperation.

"Yeah, a Weeble. You know. 'Weebles wobble, but they don't fall down.' That's our Tony. Or a Timex. 'Takes a licking and keeps on ticking.' In fact, I bet there's a million of these slogans out there. I should pull them all together for him, maybe make him a scrapbook. I bet he'd like that." She rambled on, not wanting to ask Gibbs exactly what was wrong with Tony, because that would only make it real.

And she really didn't want to know.

But Gibbs told her anyway, and she bit her lip as she listened, trying hard not to cry, trying to be brave because she could tell Gibbs needed her to be.

"I need you to do me a favor, okay?" Gibbs asked, once Abby had fallen silent after hearing of Tony's condition. "They're flying him up to Bethesda soon. I want you to head over there, track down Dr. Pitt and make sure he knows what's going on. Then stay there until I can get myself up there, okay? I don't want DiNozzo being there alone, and it will take me a few hours to get there."

"Okay, Bossman," she replied somberly, grateful to have something to do. "You need anything else?"

"Yeah. A miracle."

~0~

Gibbs hung up the phone with Abby, and started to work through the quickest way to get himself up to Bethesda. He'd have to see if he could get Sheriff Fulton to give him a lift back to the Lawrence property, so he could collect his car and get on the road as soon as possible. Even then, it would be close to four hours until he could get to the hospital. Four hours was a long time when Tony's life hung in the balance.

If something happened to Tony, if the unthinkable happened, and Gibbs wasn't there . . .

He hadn't been there when Shannon and Kelly died. Hadn't been there to hold them one last time, touch them, tell them he loved them with everything in him. He hadn't been there to say goodbye. There had been nothing harder in his life than losing his girls. But knowing he wasn't with them, that they had been alone when they passed had kept him awake for many long nights.

He didn't want the same thing to happen with DiNozzo.

He grabbed the bag of Tony's things and exited the cubicle, intent on tracking down the sheriff so he could get moving. He looked up when he heard his name being called, finding the very man he sought.

"Gibbs! Been looking for you. Better get your butt in gear."

Gibbs gave him a quizzical look.

Fulton merely grabbed his arm, hurrying him along. "Lifestar pilot is a buddy of mine. Fellow Marine Reservist. When I explained your situation, he said he'd make room for you." He stopped long enough to look the agent in the eye. "I figured you wouldn't want to leave your man behind."

Gibbs stared at him, grateful beyond words. He stretched out his hand, sincerity on his face. "Thank you," he said solemnly.

Fulton shook his hand and nodded. "Semper Fi."

The last time Gibbs had uttered those words had been as he left Tony and his team in a darkened bullpen before running off to Mexico, but he tried not to think about that now.

He had a flight to catch.

TBC . . .

Beta thanks goes to AZGirl, who makes writing more fun.


	15. Broken

_Chapter Fourteen_

Abby hung up from Gibbs and pulled up the contact list on her cell phone, scrolling down until she found the number for Dr. Brad Pitt. She hit send and bit her lip, waiting impatiently for him to answer. Most people didn't have the number for their friend's pulmonary physician plugged into the cell phone. Of course, most people didn't have a friend who'd survived the plague either, so she figured they were in no place to judge. Besides, once Tony and Brad had overcome their college rivalry, they had become good friends and often allowed her to tag along to one of their nights bar hopping. She knew better than to join them during the Buckeye/Wolverine games though. Things sometimes got a bit ugly.

She let out a disappointed sigh at the sound of his voice mail, but she had almost expected it. She left a detailed message; well, as detailed as she could, considering her source of information was Gibbs, and hung up. Throwing her phone into her purse, she quickly shed her lab coat and grabbed the large zebra-skinned bag that sat under her desk. It was her Emergency Hospital Waiting Bag, and it was packed jam-full of magazines, crosswords, playing cards, water bottles, Red Bulls, granola bars and a few other tidbits. It never occurred to her to think it odd she had such a thing ready to go at a moment's notice. She plucked Bert off the table and slung both the bag and her purse over her shoulder, heading towards the elevator as quickly as she could. The drive to the hospital in Bethesda took about thirty minutes, and that wasn't accounting for the morning rush hour.

She knew Gibbs would be proud of her as she walked through the hospital doors twenty-seven minutes later. Her driving had emulated his style, and she had shaved off precious minutes. She rushed forward to the information desk. It took her nearly ten minutes to make the woman working there understand that this was _Tony,_ and he was _hurt_, and _sick_, and they needed to get everything ready because he'd be coming soon, and Gibbs had told her she had to be there because he couldn't be, and couldn't they _please_ just find Dr. Pitt for her?

As the slightly built woman dressed in a large flower-print blouse attempted to persuade her once again to take a seat, she heard a voice call her name, and turned to see Tony's once-before and hopefully-would-be-again savior.

"Brad!" She turned and all but threw herself into his arms, grateful to have somebody to lean on. "Did you get my message? Tony's in trouble, and you have to _fix_ him!"

"I know, Abby. They've already radioed in from the flight, and we've got an operating room standing by for him. I'll be scrubbing in to see how he's doing from a respiratory angle." He held her at arm's length. "How about if you come with me, and I'll find you a place to wait, okay?" The doctor disentangled himself from her gently and with an arm at her waist, guided her to the nearby elevators. From what he had heard, Tony's prognosis was not good at all, and he hoped he wouldn't soon be breaking this young lady's heart.

~0~

The noise was deafening. It had a constant rhythm that slowly penetrated through the fog that had rolled in and taken over his mind until the pain that had receded suddenly caught him up in its crashing waves all over again. His eyes fluttered open, and he tried to look around past the alien that had apparently attached itself to his face and was attempting to blow him up like a balloon. Unused to his surroundings and writhing in pain, he fought against the straps that were holding him down. A face appeared in his line of vision.

"Agent DiNozzo, I need you to relax. You're on your way to the Navy Medical Center in Bethesda, and we're taking good care of you, but I need you to stop fighting, okay?"

Tony felt hands on his shoulders, hands that were attempting to restrain him, hands that were causing him pain. He heard words, but he couldn't make sense of them. He needed to get out of here. He needed to figure out what had happened to his team. Were they hurt? Had something gone wrong? They were depending on him. They needed him, Tim and Ziva did, even Abby and Ducky and Palmer, because Gibbs was gone, and it was all up to Tony.

He couldn't let them down.

Even if it killed him.

He pushed weakly against the arms that held him, and when he managed to snake a hand free, he reached up to try and remove whatever this thing was that had a death grip on his face. He had almost succeeded when he felt a stronger hand grab his wrist.

"DiNozzo! Settle down, Tony."

Gibbs? Gibbs was here? His eyes roamed in his sockets until they latched onto the silver-haired man holding onto his arm. But that wasn't possible. Gibbs was in Mexico. He'd left them.

Gibbs adjusted his position until Tony could clearly see his face. He loosened the grip he had on DiNozzo's arm, but still held on, waiting until he saw recognition flit through the troubled green eyes beneath him. "I've got this one, Tony, okay?" His voice was loud enough to carry over the thwump of the rotors, yet still oddly gentle.

Tony recognized the ice blue eyes gazing back at him. Gibbs. Gibbs _was_ here. That was good. Gibbs could take care of things. He always did.

Giving in to the irresistible urge to let his eyes drift shut, Tony felt himself start to slide back into the welcoming darkness, hoping that this time, Gibbs would stick around.

~0~

Abby watched from a window where Brad had taken her before he left her to scrub in. She saw the navy blue and white helicopter as it gently touched down on the large white circle painted on the roof of the hospital. She could almost feel the backwash of the rotor blades from the safety of her position. She saw the crew as they hurriedly climbed out of side door, ducking in instinct before removing the gurney that carried her best friend. Watching, she saw them place him upon a stretcher, following him with her eyes as they approached the door near where she stood.

She held her place as they rushed through, hearing them spouting off Tony's vital signs and other information as they moved past. What little she could see of his face, where it wasn't obscured by the mask, was whiter than the sheet that covered his body. She made no move to go to him, suddenly unsure if she really wanted to see him like this. Her Tony was strong and energetic and full of life and laughter. This – this wasn't her Tony.

It could never be her Tony.

She stood there after they had disappeared through another set of doors, holding Bert so tightly no air could escape as tears streamed down her face, when she felt a hand come to rest on her shoulder. Turning, she found herself face to face with the last person she expected to see.

"Gibbs!" She flung herself into his embrace, her arms trapped between them, and allowed herself to take the comfort he was offering. She had no idea how he'd gotten to the hospital so fast, but decided it didn't really matter.

All that mattered was that he was here. And that meant she wasn't alone.

And neither was Tony.

~0~

The ICU was never quiet. The hum of activity permeated the air, the beeps of the monitors and the whoosh of the ventilators combining to a cacophony of sound. Gibbs sat in the waiting room attached to the unit, watching the activity through the glass walls and waiting for word on DiNozzo. A quick glance at his watch told him it was nearing sixteen forty-five, and he stood, stretching and trying to work the kinks out of his back. He moved carefully in an attempt not to disturb Abby, who slept curled up in a position he'd have never thought possible in the chair next to him with Bert as her pillow. Ducky was on the other side of her, having retrieved Gibbs' car from the Lawrence farm and driven back upon learning his services were not needed at the property with no body for him to work on. McGee and Ziva were still there processing the scene and no doubt cursing Gibbs' name for keeping them from Tony's side. But nothing could be done here to help DiNozzo now, at least not by them.

One of the nurses had found Gibbs and Abby standing outside in the hallway leading to the rooftop after the helicopter had taken off again, and she had led them to this waiting area, knowing this was where Tony would end up eventually. They had not left the room since, and Gibbs' limited patience was wearing thinner by the minute. He moved to the other side of the room and back again, not willing to label it pacing, but knowing what it was just the same. He'd done it only a few more times before Ducky stood, taking him by the elbow and leading him away from where Abby slept on.

Ducky looked over his long-time friend, not liking what he was seeing, but uncertain how to ease his worry. Platitudes served no purpose with Leroy Jethro Gibbs, but unfortunately they were all he had to offer right now.

"You do know he's getting the best care possible, don't you Jethro?"

Gibbs stopped pacing long enough to glare at the elderly medical examiner. Tony wouldn't need the best care possible if Gibbs had put aside his own issues long enough to really look at Tony. He'd never have taken him to Virginia if he'd known DiNozzo was getting sick. The fact that he couldn't remember that DiNozzo had once had the plague was no excuse in his mind. On top of that, his agent had gotten shot on Gibbs' watch. Gibbs was supposed to have Tony's six, but evidently he'd failed in that, or Tony wouldn't be in an operating room now fighting for his life.

From what DiNozzo had revealed in that basement, Gibbs hadn't been successful in watching Tony's back since before that damned explosion that blew all their lives to hell. Gibbs hadn't been there for DiNozzo when Tony had needed him most – when Tony embarked on his own journey as a team leader. That was never the way Gibbs had intended for Tony to step into his shoes. He had known for years now that sometime in the future, the day would come when he would hand Tony the baton, allowing the younger agent to carry on the race that Jethro had started. He had envisioned the pride he'd feel watching Tony take over the team, confident in the knowledge that Gibbs had groomed him for this moment for years, knowing that Gibbs had every belief that he could handle the job. But Gibbs would never be more than a phone call away, ready to answer questions or offer advice when something unexpected came up.

That was hardly the scenario as it had happened. Instead, Tony had been handed a gun and a badge, and with the simple words _'you'll do,'_ Gibbs had walked off and left him to his own devices. Everything Tony had said was true. Gibbs had only thought of himself, not the effect his leaving would have on Tony, Abby and the others. He had left them high and dry and not looked backed once.

He would give almost anything to be able to change that now. Or at least change the way that he had returned. Dumping Tony's things onto his desk like that had been a crappy way to treat his Senior Field Agent. DiNozzo deserved better. He deserved to be taken aside and told of the change in private. He deserved to be thanked for filling the role; deserved to be praised for doing the job so well. Gibbs wished he had listened to Jen when she suggested that. But no, he had to act just like the stubborn, ornery bastard he had become known for being.

And now, he might never get the chance to make things right.

None of these thoughts were shared with the man at his side, though he found he didn't have the strength to maintain the glare, and felt a look of sorrow take its place. "Not sure that will be enough this time, Duck," he stated quietly, referring to Ducky's earlier comment.

"Our Anthony has come back from worse," Ducky pointed out.

Gibbs gave a half laugh. "Yeah. But his luck has to run out sometime."

Ducky laid a comforting hand on Jethro's shoulder. "Then we shall just pray that this is not that time, hmmm?"

Gibbs said nothing, uncertain how to respond. He was saved from saying anything when a voice called out his name. Turning, he saw Brad Pitt and an older man enter the waiting room, both dressed in navy blue scrubs. "Agent Gibbs?" the younger, dark-haired doctor called out.

Gibbs turned and stalked over to them. He had more than a passing relationship with Pitt, having gotten to know him during the many hours he had spent at Tony's bedside as he recovered from the pneumonia developed secondary to the plague. He was glad for that now, since it meant Pitt knew better than to expect him to waste time on pleasantries.

Abby jumped to her feet, suddenly awake and beating him to the punch. "How's Tony?"

He came to a stop in front of them. "His condition is critical, but stable for the moment," Brad answered as the remnants of Team Gibbs gathered around him. "Dr. Adams performed the surgery, so I'll have him fill you in on that before I talk to you about the respiratory complications."

The older man took up the conversation in a no-nonsense manner that Gibbs appreciated. "Mr. DiNozzo did as well as could be hoped for during the surgery. The bullet has been removed, and the damage repaired to the best of our ability. The cavity left in the bullet's wake caused injury to the abdominal muscle and the large intestine. Blood loss was significant due to a laceration of the liver, which we've stitched up. It took several units before his blood pressure stabilized to a level I was comfortable with. With any abdominal injury involving the intestines, there's always a danger of infection or peritonitis, so we'll be watching carefully for that." Here he paused, looking intently at the faces of the three individuals staring back at him. A slightly odd assortment, to be certain, but he saw no need to sugarcoat things for them. "If this were all that Mr. DiNozzo had to deal with, I'd be cautiously optimistic. However, the respiratory issues are, for the moment, of greater concern, but I'll let Dr. Pitt fill you in on that." He turned to his colleague.

"Tony's chest x-ray showed fluid in the lower left lobe of his lungs. The presence of a fever indicates that it is more likely due to infection rather than a result of the shooting. Abby, you mentioned you thought Tony was coming down with something?"

She nodded tremulously, and Gibbs could see her eyes were watery, though the tears had yet to overflow. He lifted his arm and allowed her to burrow into his side.

"That would be my guess as well. It's hard to say how long he's been sick – normal progression of the infection is unpredictable due to his previously damaged lungs. We've started him on a course of Erythromycin and Cefuroxime via IV, which he seemed to respond well to last time, and we're keeping him sedated. We ended up intubating him to give his body a chance to heal without putting additional stress on his lungs."

He ran a hand through his sweaty hair, hating that he had to bring more bad news to these good people. Tony was his friend, and he knew that the three people standing before him were the ones Tony considered his family, along with McGee and Ziva. He felt their pain with them. He truly liked Tony DiNozzo.

"They're moving him from recovery now to ICU-8. Gibbs, I took the liberty of clearing it with the nurses for you to stay."

Gibbs nodded his thanks, unable to put it into words.

"How long until we know?" Abby asked solemnly. "You know, if he's going to . . ." She was unable to finish the sentence, certain that saying it aloud would bring it to pass.

Brad shook his head sadly. "I wish I had an answer for that, Abby. He's got a fight ahead of him, but if I know anything about Tony, it's that he has a survivor's spirit. Both Dr. Adams and I will be watching him closely, and you have my number if you need me, okay? Anytime. Day or Night." He reached out and took Abby's hand, giving a gentle squeeze, nodding at the two men before taking his leave.

"Dr. Pitt," Ducky called after him, "if I may, I have a question." He followed the two doctors as they left the waiting area.

Gibbs took his hand and placed it under Abby's chin, lifting until she met his eyes. "You okay?"

She mashed her lips together tightly and shook her head, trying hard not to give in to the tears.

Gibbs sighed and pulled her fully into his arms, allowing her to bury her face in his neck. He rubbed a hand soothingly up and down her back, feeling the warmth of her tears as they began to run freely.

"He has to be okay, Gibbs. He has to. If he's not. . ."

"He will be Abs, if I have anything to say about it. DiNozzo knows he doesn't have my permission to die."

Abby sniffed and nodded, her tears mingling with her mascara and leaving a black smudge on Gibbs' neck. "I used to think that was enough, because Tony would never, ever disobey one of your orders. Not ever. Now, though," she paused, and drew a deep breath, letting the rest of her thoughts drift away.

Gibbs pulled back and held her by the shoulders, looking straight into her eyes. "It will be enough, Abs. We'll make sure it's enough."

She stared at him silently, searching his face for the truth. She knew what was going on between her two favorite men, knew that their relationship had been fractured lately, and she hated it. She had nearly been at the point of taking Gibbs to task, making him see what he was doing to poor Tony, when all of this happened. She didn't want to bring it up now – they had enough to deal with. But once Tony was doing better, she'd make sure Gibbs knew that he needed to make this right. Team Gibbs wasn't going to lose Tony, not as long as she was around.

But if Tony thought Gibbs didn't care anymore, that he'd just become so much useless baggage to the older man, she didn't know how hard he'd fight this time, and she didn't want to see him give up. She looked at Gibbs beseechingly, hoping he would understand. "Tell him, Gibbs," she said quietly, her words imploring. "Make sure he knows.

Gibbs looked at her uncertainly. "Knows what?"

"That he still has something worth fighting for."

Her words hit him hard, the guilt he was already feeling rising to plague him again, but he nodded, promising her with his eyes.

She nodded back, pulling out of his embrace. "Okay then. I'm going to go outside and call McGee to let him know Tony's out of surgery. Want me to bring you back a coffee?" she asked, knowing he had no intention of leaving.

"Yeah." He watched her as she left the room and disappeared down the hallway towards the elevator. She had barely gone when another woman entered. Dressed in scrubs with her black hair pulled back into a messy bun, she motioned to him.

"Agent Gibbs?" she asked, waiting for his nod of confirmation. "I'm Lori, one of the ICU nurses. Agent DiNozzo is settled in his room, and Dr. Pitt asked that I bring you in. If you're ready?"

Gibbs nodded, listening vaguely to the woman as she made mention of the rules of the floor and where things were located. He already knew the drill, so he let his mind drift, taking in his first view of Tony in several hours and not even noticing when she left him alone. There was the usual assortment of tubes and wires attached to his agent in various places. The monitor chirped out its reassuring rhythm, letting him know that Tony's heart continued to beat. He took a quick glance at the screen, knowing enough about vital signs to know that Tony's were shaky at best. DiNozzo had the hated ventilator in his mouth, white tape holding it in place, his lungs filling and deflating in time to the noise of the machine. His normally tan face was drained of all color behind the day's growth of stubble, and there were beads of sweat on his forehead. His hair stuck up in directions that would give the younger man apoplexy; Gibbs had seen many times the unconscious motions Tony would make to smooth it into place.

The thought brought a smile to his face as he gazed down at Tony's sleeping form. Laying a hand on his forehead, he felt the warmth from the fever that still held him in its grip. He slid his hand back until it rested on Tony's unkempt hair, and leaned down, bringing his lips close to Tony's ear. "You still don't have permission, DiNozzo, you hear me? I expect you to keep fighting. Don't let me down now."

Maybe that was fighting dirty. Tony had never once let him down, though Gibbs had never told him that. He knew that once upon a time, Tony would do everything in his power to avoid disappointing Gibbs. He hoped that was still true, that he hadn't damaged their relationship to the point where Tony no longer cared. He had to believe that wasn't the case. Their friendship might be broken, but it could be fixed.

Just like Tony.

With that hope in mind, he pulled the chair right up next to the bed. He laid a hand over Tony's forearm, wanting the contact to reassure himself that if he fell asleep, he'd be awake the moment Tony moved.

He closed his eyes, and settled in to wait.

TBC . . .

A/N: Thanks, AZGirl, for catching my mistakes!


	16. Awakenings

_Chapter Fifteen_

McGee fidgeted impatiently as the elevator crept towards the eighth floor, his eyes glued to the numbers above his head. He was aware of Ziva's measured breathing as she stood immobile beside him. It had taken them forever to process the scene at the farm. Both had shared an unspoken agreement to be as thorough as possible, wanting it done right for Tony's sake. There was little they could do for him, save that, and they both felt they owed him at least that much.

McGee knew now that he had hardly been fair to Tony during Gibbs' time in Mexico. Tim had unconsciously looked to the senior agent for guidance and reassurance while at the same time making it clear to Tony that Tim only thought of him as a poor substitute for the real team leader. Yet during that time, the team had continued to function as well as ever, their case solve rate never dropping. Looking back on it now, McGee saw that for the incredibly difficult task it must have been, even though Tony had never once complained about the increased responsibilities. In truth, DiNozzo had stepped up to the plate with seemingly no effort, stepping in for Gibbs with barely a falter, becoming what everyone needed him to be.

And not one of them had ever thanked him for that.

Tim knew better than to act that way. His mother had raised him with better manners than to overlook handing out thanks and encouragement where it was due. Not only had he not thanked Tony, he'd made things more difficult by his often superior attitude. It was just that sometimes Tony could be so . . . well, _Tony_, and that made it hard to realize that underneath that polished exterior was a man with the same feelings and emotions that everyone else shared. Tony simply was a master at hiding those feelings, but if you looked closely enough, really _looked_, you could catch a crack in the façade now and then.

Tim should have told him. Should have let Tony know he was doing a good job. Maybe it would have made a difference. Not that it would have kept him from getting sick. But he'd been looking so down lately, ever since Gibbs had returned, and McGee couldn't help but feel partly at fault. Tim had been so happy to have the original team leader back, he'd ignored how Tony must have felt about it. There had been a fleeting hope that with Gibbs' return, Tim would be able to keep the coveted Senior Field Agent position, and maybe Tony would move on to his own team. He couldn't believe how guilty that thought made him feel now. Tony was back to fighting for his life, and Tim was worried about advancing his career. He dreaded seeing DiNozzo like that again, pale and weak and fighting for oxygen. It brought back too many painful memories, that previous time in their lives inexorably woven in with the loss of Kate and the hunt for Ari. He had no desire to revisit those memories.

The elevator doors opened, dumping them out into the hallway outside the ICU. Squaring his shoulders, he moved forward resolutely, holding the door open for Ziva to precede him into the waiting room. Abby and Ducky looked up as one from where they sat hand-in-hand, Abby's belongings strewn out on the chairs beside them. No one else was present, and for that, Tim was grateful.

"McGee!" Abby announced, bouncing up from her chair to wrap her arms around him. He gratefully returned the gesture. There was something so amazing about Abby's hugs that left you feeling as if you could face anything. He wanted to hold on longer, but she released him and turned to bestow the same comfort on Ziva, though Tim watched as his partner held herself somewhat stiffly before finally returning the hug as well.

"How is he?" Tim asked, directing the question towards Ducky.

The medical examiner had stood as well, coming and laying a hand on Tim's shoulder, squeezing gently. "No change since Abigail called you earlier. He's on the ventilator and holding his own for the moment. Gibbs is back there with him, but I have little doubt that a visit from each of you would serve Tony well."

Ziva looked at him and nodded. "You should go first, McGee. I will go after you have returned."

"Are you sure?" Tim hated to ask the question, afraid she would change her mind. He really wanted to see how Tony was doing for himself.

"Of course," she simply replied, giving no indication of any emotion.

Tim didn't need telling twice. He smiled his gratitude and hurried off to see Tony, finding his room with little difficulty. He was surprised to see that DiNozzo was alone, the only evidence of Gibbs' presence a black jacket, an empty coffee cup and abandoned newspaper. Tim's step faltered when he caught his first glimpse of Tony lying in the bed, with wires and tubes sticking out of him from all angles. Even when he'd had the plague before, he hadn't been intubated, so the sight of respirator taped to his mouth made it look so much worse. He was covered only in a light sheet, and as Tim approached, he could feel the heat radiating off the older man's body. His normally tan face was pale, with deep, dark circles rimming his eyes, and his cheeks had taken on a sunken, hollow look. Tim never really liked being down in Autopsy, but he thought some of Ducky's patients might compare rather favorably to the sight in front of his eyes, and he couldn't help the words that slipped out.

"Jeez, Tony, you look like crap."

The slap to the back of his head came out of nowhere and had Tim reaching for his gun reflexively, before he caught the hint of Old Spice, coffee and Ben-Gay that could only be one person. He dropped his hand back to his side. "Sorry, Boss," he said automatically.

Gibbs said nothing, just continued to stare at him as if Tim should know better. And perhaps he should, but he couldn't help defending himself. "It's just – he looks bad, Gibbs."

Gibbs shook his head, the expression on his face a mixture of disappointment and understanding. "He doesn't need to hear you say that, Tim," he said gently, the use of McGee's first name taking the sting out of the reprimand.

"Right," he inhaled deeply. "Got it, Boss."

Tim stood next to the bed, holding onto the railing and gazing down at Tony, not used to seeing the agent who was normally so full of life so still, and tried to think of something to say that wouldn't sound completely stupid. He knew he needed to apologize to Tony, to tell him that he'd done a good job as team leader, and that McGee was sorry for giving him such a hard time about it. He also wanted to tell him that he was right about Mrs. Lawrence having killed her husband, and that they never would have broken the case if Tony's lead on the rental van hadn't come through. There were plenty of things he needed to share with the man who treated McGee like an annoying kid brother in their dysfunctional family relationship, but he didn't feel comfortable doing that with Gibbs here. Besides, he felt that should be something Tony deserved to be awake to hear. Saying it now would only serve to make McGee feel better, and that wasn't supposed to be what this was about.

As he racked his brain for something to say, he took note of Gibbs resuming his position in the chair by the bed, and he had little doubt the older man wouldn't be moving anytime soon. That was good. Tony needed Gibbs by his side, more than anything else. He knew his friend relied on their boss in a way McGee would never understand, but then, he had never had the type of childhood that DiNozzo alluded to on occasion. If McGee were the one lying in that bed, he knew he'd be surrounded by his parents and his sister, and they wouldn't be moved, come hell or high water. It somehow seemed fitting that Gibbs filled that role for Tony, even if things had been strained lately. But McGee was confident they could work it out. After all, that's what families did.

Smiling, he laid his hand Tony's arm, feeling a touch of warmth suffuse his face, but not willing to be embarrassed by the gesture, and started to say something he knew Tony would love to hear. "So, you should see how Ziva's been beside herself since she found out you were shot . . ."

~0~

If McGee was surprised that Gibbs followed him out of the ICU cubicle down to the waiting room, he knew better than to comment on it. The pair came upon Ziva, Abby and Ducky sitting in the imitation leather chairs, the latter two looking as if they'd been there for some time already. He came to stand next to them, smiling down at Abby. He was about to take the seat next to her when Gibbs spoke.

"What have you got for me?"

McGee slipped immediately into reporting mode, glad that Ziva was here, and wishing Tony was as well. He enjoyed it when the three of them rattled off details of the case to their boss, finishing one another's sentences and trying to one-up each other in mostly friendly competition. He hated it when he was alone and the sole focus of Gibbs' in case-mode.

"Ziva and I processed the scene like you asked, Boss. Evidence has been bagged and tagged and sent to Abby's lab. The TAD forensic tech is going through it now, and we left strict instructions to call one of us the minute she had anything.."

Ziva picked up where he left off. "The rental van that Mrs. Lawrence presumably used to transport the body of Lance Corporal Edwards is being towed to the evidence garage. We found traces of blood on the carpet. Mrs. Lawrence has been placed in the custody of the U.S. Marshalls while she is recuperating in the hospital. She will be there for several days before she can be moved. Apparently, they were unable to save her leg and were forced to amputate." The Israeli woman did not appear to be upset by this fact.

Tim jumped back in. "The doctor said something about the tourniquet not having been released fast enough, but he wanted to make sure we knew that it was still the right thing to do, that she would have bled to death without it." He was concerned that Gibbs might be feeling guilty over the woman's traumatic injury.

If he were, Gibbs' face showed no indication of it.

"Yes," Ducky commented, "that is often the case with a tourniquet, as the toxins build up and can wreak quite a bit of havoc when released back into the blood stream as the tourniquet is removed. I do recall one time in France, though it was not a tourniquet, but rather a crushing injury. A young lad had the misfortune to have a millstone fall upon his thigh, trapping him in the barn for several hours. Though his leg was relatively uninjured, when they moved the stone off of him . . ."

"Ducky," Gibbs said warningly.

"Ah, yes, my apologies, Jethro. Perhaps another time would be more suitable."

Abby leaned over and squeezed Ducky's arm. "You can tell me later, Duck-man," she whispered.

Gibbs turned back to McGee. "Let me know the minute she's able to be transported to NCIS. I want one of us handling the interrogation." His tone brooked no argument, not that any of the people present would offer one. She had shot one of their own, and that was unforgivable.

"Abs, I know you want to be here, but at some point, I need you to head back and get working on the evidence." He didn't need to say that he didn't trust an outsider to handle things when one of his team was involved. Abby just nodded. She was torn between wanting to be here for Tony, and wanting to make sure everything was done right for his sake. Plus, if she were being honest, she would be better off keeping busy. There was nothing she could do here now.

"Ziva, why don't you head in to see Tony, and stay with him a while. I need to grab a shower and stop by the office, but I won't be long. McGee, you'll be heading things up in DiNozzo's and my absence. I don't think I need to remind you how important it is that things are done right." The words came forth with more than a hint of threat.

"No, Boss. I mean, yes, Boss. I mean," McGee paused, drawing in a breath, "I'll take care of it."

Gibbs nodded his approval, once again grateful for his team, his people. They were the best around, and times like this only proved that fact.

~0~

Ziva stood at the doorway to Tony's cubicle, willing her feet to enter the room but unable to make them move. She didn't want to see him this way. Her feelings for the senior agent were . . . confusing. At times, he could be infuriating and drove her mad with his juvenile behavior and constant correcting of her English. At other times, she saw that correction as something one friend would do for another, to keep them from appearing silly. She had to admit she enjoyed their sexually charged banter, probably much more than she should.

The hardest emotion to deal with, however, was the feeling she got whenever she caught a glimpse behind the mask that Tony wore to the uncertain young man beneath, the one who cried out for love and approval, or really just to be noticed. Just so that _someone_ knew he was alive and cared enough to give a damn.

Ziva had more than her own share of masks, and she understood all too well the desire to win the approval of those who mattered to her. She had spent years trying to win her father's love, desperate to prove her worth to him despite being a woman living in a man's world. It was one of the reasons she believed that a relationship between her and Tony would never work – they both came with far too much baggage, and anything between them would no doubt be doomed from the start.

But still, it was nice to think about, even if Tony did seem to finally be getting serious with someone else. She thought about that woman briefly, and wondered if they should somehow try to contact her, to let her know what had happened. She dismissed the idea quickly and scoffed. No doubt she was the type of woman who couldn't handle the sight of blood.

She stood in the doorway, staring into the room without really seeing Tony there, wondering if she would ever really be able to cross the threshold. She was unaccustomed to weakness and hated the reality of it, but neither could she deny it. Ziva felt a firm hand gripping her shoulder and turned to see who it belonged to, surprised to see Gibbs standing next to her, but grateful all the same.

He stood silently by her side for a few moments, allowing her this time, before he leaned over and placed a quick kiss on her temple. "He's still Tony," he said simply.

He walked past her, grabbing his black NCIS jacket off the chair. She tried not to notice the blood stain that marred the already dark material as he exited the glass room once again and headed off down the hallway.

He was right. No matter how many machines and tubes and wires he was hooked up to, it was still Tony DiNozzo lying in that bed. Infuriating, exasperating, annoying, juvenile, sarcastic, humorous, kind, loyal to a fault, protective and self-sacrificing – a complex man indeed – but he would always be Tony.

She smiled to herself and stepped into the room.

~0~

Gibbs was more than tired. His dad used to call it 'bone-weary,' and it seemed a fitting description, as he felt the exhaustion deep within settling along his frame with aches and pains he couldn't remember having a few years back. He knew his current schedule was more than he could handle, but he wasn't one to give in to physical discomfort, and a decent night's sleep had never been very high on his agenda. Dividing his time, rather unequally, between the hospital and the office was taking its toll, and he couldn't help but wish there were more hours in a day.

While at the hospital, he worried about what was going on at the office, wondering if McGee and Ziva would be able to handle the final details of the case in his absence. Jen had been gracious enough to put the two remaining members of his team on cold cases while he was tied up with Tony, and though she had yet to visit the hospital personally, she did make a point of calling Jethro daily to find out if DiNozzo had awakened yet. There was a sense of impatience to her questions, almost a desperation, but Jethro felt it stemmed more from a selfish need rather than concern for Tony. Something was going on there, and he made a mental note to find out what.

Whenever he left the hospital for a few hours to catch up at the office, he would end up spending the time worrying about DiNozzo, though he'd never come out and admit that to anyone. Still, given that he severely limited his time away from the ICU, he thought people might figure it out on their own. It had been three days since Tony's surgery, and while his condition hadn't worsened, it hadn't improved either. He'd sat by DiNozzo's bed for hours each day, drinking countless cups of mediocre coffee, and he slept there fitfully at night, watching as nurses bustled in and out and doctors readjusted antibiotics - all with the hope of knocking out the fever that seemed to have taken DiNozzo in a stranglehold and refused to let go. It generally hovered around 102 degrees, peaking at 104.2 degrees earlier today, and Gibbs had seen the concern in Brad's eyes as he answered the page, fiddling with the IV's and placing a stethoscope to Tony's chest, listening to his breathing for long minutes before fixing Gibbs with a look that needed no explanation. He'd done what he could. This was out of his hands now, and it was entirely up to Tony to keep fighting and beat this.

Gibbs sat quietly in the chair he'd claimed as his, having sent an exhausted Abby home an hour before. He knew she was having trouble staying away, just as he was, but he needed her to get some sleep tonight, and she seemed to understand. They still had a long haul ahead of them once Tony awakened, and they would be called into action rather than just sitting helplessly by, waiting for his return to consciousness. They both remembered what it had been like the last time Tony had been down this road, and though the lights might not be blue, nearly everything else was the same, if not worse.

And Tony _would_ wake up.

There was no other acceptable outcome in Gibbs' mind. He wanted him to awaken, needed him to awaken, so that they could fix what had gone drastically wrong between them. So that Jethro could fix it. Apologies might be a sign of weakness. But the wrongs he had done to Tony in the past months were weaknesses too, and his agent deserved to hear Gibbs admit that. His agent, no, his _friend_, needed to hear Gibbs say he was sorry. Gibbs almost smiled at the thought of what Tony's face would look like when he finally heard Gibbs utter those two simple words.

He wanted DiNozzo fully alert when that time came. None of this apologizing while he was asleep or spaced out on pain meds. Not fair to either of them. Tony deserved better.

Abby's voice came back to him as he sat there in the early hours of the night watching Tony's chest rise and fall in time to the beat of the ventilator, feeling the heat of DiNozzo's body emanating from the arm Gibbs refused to let go of. She had told Gibbs to make sure Tony knew he still had something worth fighting for. He'd thought about that often in the past few days. A part of him believed that of course DiNozzo knew he should fight this off – Tony was more of a survivor than anyone he'd ever known. But another part of him recognized the truth of Abby's words; that even DiNozzo had limits, and the events of the past few months must have certainly pushed him right to the edge. It was Jethro's actions and lack of words that had brought DiNozzo to that point.

Maybe it was time his words brought Tony back.

Gibbs leaned forward, sliding his left hand down to grasp Tony's hand firmly, laying his right on Tony's brow, gently brushing back the sweaty and matted hair. He moved in even closer and spoke quietly, but enough to be heard over the hum of the machines.

"You've been sleeping on the job for three days, DiNozzo. Enough already. Need you to wake up now." He sighed as he heard the words come out of his mouth, knowing it was a poor start, but frustrated that he couldn't come up with something better. He thought about his senior agent as he continued to stroke his fevered brow. The child DiNozzo had once been grew up neglected and forgotten at best, possibly abused at worst. It was why as an adult he constantly sought attention in any form, positive or negative, and why he gave one-hundred and ten percent at all times. DiNozzo would do anything to prove to Gibbs that he was worth the faith the older man had placed in him way back in Baltimore. Tony never wanted to do anything to disappoint Gibbs, the man who had taken on the role of father in his eyes, a role that Gibbs was glad to fill even if he never gave any indication of it. Tony gave his all and then some, just to prove to Gibbs that Tony was _needed_. Everything in Tony's life was about wanting to be needed by _someone_.

Well, Gibbs needed him. And if it would make a difference, he could damn sure manage to tell him that.

"Need you to wake up, Tony," he repeated. "You're my Senior Field Agent, and I'm depending on you. I depend on you every day. I need you back out there watching my six, because there's no one who does it as well as you do. Need you to be there to keep an eye on Ziva and McGee; keep them out of trouble, show them the right way to do things. I need you there because you always know what I'm thinking without me having to say anything. Need you there to keep me from going off half-cocked, or scaring the crap out of the rest of the team. Need you there because you've got balls enough to stand up to me when I'm not thinking straight, and you aren't afraid to say it."

He paused, watching Tony's face intently, hoping for some sign of awareness, but he saw nothing. He realized that these were words Tony needed to hear when he was awake enough to remember them, and he vowed to repeat them when it would make more of an impact. But he had to believe they would also make a difference now, so he continued with the one truth he thought might reach the younger man through the darkness that held him.

"I need you because you make me laugh, Tony. You're the only one who's brought laughter into my life since the day," he stopped here, feeling his throat tighten and his eyes burn, "since the day I lost my girls." He waited, struggling to regain his composure even as he continued running his hand over Tony's hair. "Truth is, I can't imagine losing you too. I lost my family once." It felt strange to admit that out loud after having kept it to himself for so many years. "Don't want to go through that again. I can't imagine facing a life that doesn't have you in it. Don't make me, okay?" He drew a deep, unsteady breath. "Please."

He waited, and watched, having run out of things to say, but he saw no change, no evidence that anything he had said made the slightest bit of difference. He didn't regret the words though. He'd say it all over again, as many times as needed, if it would keep DiNozzo by his side.

The weariness returned with a vengeance, compounded by the disappointment, and he sat back slightly in the chair, returning his right hand to its customary position on Tony's forearm. Letting his head fall back against the headrest, he closed his eyes.

And soon, he slept.

~0~

The first thing he noticed was that his hand was wet. Wet enough that it brought back memories of high school practical jokes when his buddies had placed his hand in a bucket of warm water, which thankfully had not had the effect they desired. As he remembered where he was though, he knew no one would attempt suck a prank now. This brought his eyes open and his head forward, his neck stiff and sore.

The next thing he noticed was that it wasn't just his hand that was wet, but the sheets that Tony lay on were soaked, as if someone had just dumped that bucket of water over the sleeping man.

The third thing he noticed was that the arm that he continued to hold no longer burned with rising fever.

The fourth thing he noticed, and it was this that brought a smile to his face for the first time in days, was that there were green eyes gazing sleepily back at him, confusion in their depths. He looked his agent over closely, reaching for the call button instinctively, even as he placed his hand back on Tony's forehead. He shared that smile with the younger man, knowing the relief was plainly written on his face for all to see, and not caring one bit.

"Welcome back, DiNozzo."

TBC...

A/N: This chapter is dedicated to my beta, AZgirl (and she knows why!) for catching all my brain stumbles...


	17. Stepping Up

_Chapter 16_

Tony slept most of the day, the effects of the sedative still running rampant through his system. Gibbs had called Abby the minute the doctors had shoved him out of the room when Tony first awoke, knowing she'd want to be the one to spread the good news. He wasn't surprised when she showed up in the ICU waiting room less than an hour later, dragging Ducky with her. Ducky excused himself and went off to Tony's room, his status as a doctor granting him access where Gibbs was denied, and Gibbs did his best not to begrudge him that, knowing any information gained would be passed on in detail. He allowed Abby to grab onto him and did his best to stay on his feet despite her bouncing. No one should be bouncing at this hour of the morning, even if they did have good reason to celebrate.

"Did he say anything? Did he talk to you?" she asked excitedly, pulling herself from his arms and holding her hands clasped in front of her as if she were pleading for something.

Jethro shook his head minutely. "Still had the tube in, Abs," he pointed out as an answer.

Her brow furrowed momentarily. "Oh. Right. Well, that makes sense, but I hope they'll take it out soon, so we can talk to him and he can talk back. I mean, this is Tony we're talking about, and you know how much he likes to talk. It would be pure torture for him to have to sit there and not say anything, not make any jokes, or think up some obscure movie reference, or just do that little 'growl' thing he does that makes my heart stop every time. Not that you need to know that. That he makes my heart stop, I mean. Because even though Tony's one of the sexiest guys I've ever_ seen_, that's not how I _see_ him, you know? Of course you know, you're Gibbs. You know everything." She stopped bouncing for a moment, looking confused. "Wait. What were we talking about?"

Gibbs merely raised an eyebrow and shook his head. He had no idea, really. Too many of his conversations with Abby tended to go that way. If Tony had been here, no doubt he would have caught Gibbs' gaze with the tiniest of eye rolls, letting him know their thoughts were in sync once again. Jethro took comfort in the knowledge that Tony was awake and moving in the right direction, because he was looking forward to getting that level of comfort between them back again. For now, he took Abby by the arm and led her over to the chairs, sitting back and stretching out his spine as he worked to shake off the fog left over from too little sleep.

"Did you get in touch with the others?" he asked, not wanting to have to call them himself.

Her head bobbed up and down. "Yup. Ducky was the only other one who was in already, because it was pretty early when you called. But I called McGee, and he promised to tell Ziva and Jimmy and the director. I figured that was enough to start with, because word travels pretty fast throughout the building, and it won't take too long before everybody knows. In fact, you should probably send out an email requesting limited visitors, because Tony's a pretty popular guy, and I bet he'll be bombarded once people are aware he's up and around."

Gibbs didn't feel like pointing out that they were far from out of the woods yet, knowing he needed to hold onto Abby's exuberance to buoy his own spirits. Something must have shown on his face though, because she stopped speaking and looked at him.

"It's okay, Boss-man. Tony will be up and around before you know it. And in the meantime, we'll take care of everything he needs. Just like last time, okay?"

Gibbs nodded, not sure exactly what there was to say to that. He had no doubt that if Tony needed anything in the next few days, one of them would see to it, come hell or high water. That was the beauty of having a team like his, knowing they'd be there during the difficult times to pick up the slack. He wondered if Tony still saw things that way.

If not, it wouldn't take much to remind him. He sat forward suddenly, leaning his elbows on his knees, a determined glint in his eyes. "Call the others and tell them to get over here. We need to put together a schedule; make sure Tony's got someone with him at all times. You know how tough these next few days are going to be on him, and I don't want him alone and thinking nobody cares, got it?"

Abby jumped up and saluted him. "On it, Boss-man!"

Gibbs was about to give further instructions when Ducky re-entered the waiting room. He stood immediately to his feet. "How is he?"

The medical examiner came and stood next to his friends. "Doing as well as they could hope for." He turned to Jethro, focusing his explanation to him. "As you know, Anthony's fever has broken, which is a good indication that the antibiotics are finally doing their job. The bullet wound is healing, but he will no doubt still be in considerable pain from that, especially when the coughing begins. They are weaning him off the sedative and will attempt to take him off the ventilator later this morning. If his oxygen levels hold, they will extubate him, and as I'm sure you recall, that's when the truly difficult part of his journey will begin. Anthony needs to be able to clear his lungs of all the fluid that has built up, but the coughing this time around will be doubly painful because of the abdominal wound." He paused, removing his glasses and polishing them with a cloth he pulled from his pocket.

"He will have a morphine drip established, but they'll be keeping the dosage low in an effort to avoid causing any further depression of the respiratory system. The good news is that means he will not suffer as much from the side effects of pain medication that seem to plague our dear Anthony."

"The bad news?" Abby prompted, knowing from Ducky's face there was more.

Ducky sighed. "The bad news is that the level of pain will be higher than any normal person would be comfortable with. I'm afraid he is in for a rather rough couple of days."

Abby's lip began to tremble, and she automatically moved closer to Gibbs, who stood still as stone, save for a fist clenching and unclenching. "Can't they make it any easier for him?" she asked quietly.

Ducky merely looked at her and shook his head.

Gibbs eyes burned with determination. "Maybe they can't. But we can. Call the others, Abby," he said, leaning over and laying a kiss against her temple. "We'll get him through this."

~0~

Tony fell back against the mattress, listing to port and utterly spent. He was reasonably certain that if he looked on the floor beneath him, he would see part of his lung lying there, as he had to have coughed it up on this latest jag. He really couldn't decide what hurt him the most right now – his lungs, his gut, or his throat, which was swollen and abused from the endotracheal tube that they had removed two days ago. He longed for the cool relief of the ice chips on the bedside table, but swallowing them caused nothing but fire, and he wasn't sure it was a good tradeoff. And just for good measure, his head chimed in with the headache from hell. He would give anything for more of the sedative they had been pumping into him only a day or two ago, but the respiratory therapist, who came four times a day and was apparently the devil incarnate, had insisted he work as hard as possible to clear his lungs and sleep was not on the agenda.

It was apparently McGee's turn at babysitting duty. It had not escaped his attention that one or another of the team was with him at all times, and he was torn between being grateful that someone actually gave a damn, and annoyed that they wouldn't just leave him alone to die in peace. At the moment, it was definitely the latter, since McGee had taken it upon himself to act as the devil's minion and was pushing that stupid breathing device into Tony's lax hand.

McGee moved behind him, reaching under Tony's arms and working to bring him more upright in the bed. He sat on the edge of the bed behind and beside him, using his own body to keep the exhausted agent upright. "Come on, Tony. Only two more sets, and then you can rest for a while."

Tony was embarrassed to feel tears pricking at his eyes. Right now, two more sets of breathing exercises seemed to be an insurmountable task, and he wanted nothing more than to roll over and give up. Enough already. It just wasn't worth it. He turned his head away from McGee and allowed his eyes to slide shut, wishing he could melt into the blankets. McGee was the last person he wanted to see him like this. The breathing exercises always set off the coughing, and he honestly didn't think he could take any more.

"Tired, McGee," he mumbled, trying to hide the catch in his voice. "S'nuff."

McGee could feel how limply Tony held himself, not even fighting the position that he knew the older man hated, and he desperately tried to think of something that would spur him on. The therapist had stressed that the more exercises they could get him to do, the quicker he'd be on the road to recovery. Given the severity of the damage to Tony's lungs from the time he had the plague, the journey to get back to active duty would be even harder this time, and Tim knew they had to keep him fighting. He didn't want to think about what it would be like to be on Gibbs' team without Tony there. DiNozzo could tease Tim mercilessly, and often did, but even he had to admit that the teasing had shown him how to stand up to others. McGee had developed a tougher skin because of working with Tony, and he knew the older man would never allow anyone else to give Tim a hard time. Tony also had a habit of shielding the others from the wrath of Gibbs when their boss was on the warpath, and that was a talent he didn't ever think he could emulate.

He shifted slightly, taking even more of Tony's weight against himself, and moving so his mouth was near Tony's ear, hoping his words would help. "When Gibbs went to Mexico," he began, and then hesitated, wondering if now was the right time to bring up what was obviously still painful for Tony. He decided to press on, and prayed it would only be an encouragement. "When he left, I had no idea what to do. Back when the boss first gave me a position on the team, I was totally green. I know that, even though I was pretty excited that he thought I deserved a chance. So when he left, I wasn't ready for him to go, you know? I still thought I had a lot to learn. But you – you always made it seem so easy. I'd work my butt off trying to come up with the answers for Gibbs, and you'd be sitting there playing Tetris. Yet when the time came to report, you were never there empty-handed. I still don't know how you do that." He smiled at the thought.

"But when Gibbs left, I kind of figured everything was going to fall apart. I mean, I sure as hell didn't know how to be a Senior Field Agent, and I figured there was no way you knew enough to be the Team Leader." He shook his head and paused, allowing the memory to run through his mind for a few moments. Tony's eyes were closed, but McGee knew he wasn't asleep.

"But you know what, Tony? I was wrong. You did a good job leading the team. And you made sure that _I _did a good job as your Senior Field Agent. Thank you for that, by the way. And I'm sorry I made it tough on you." His voice trailed off at the end, and his eyes darted away, embarrassed.

Tony snorted, opening his eyes part way. "Not so tough, Probie."

Tim chuckled. "Yeah, I was, Tony. Don't argue with me, okay? And don't tell me not to apologize."

Tony fell silent, and Tim shifted again, continuing, glad that he wasn't directly facing Tony, since he knew he'd never be able to get the words out otherwise. "From the first moment we met back in Norfolk, you kind of took me under your wing. You annoyed the hell out of me, sure, but you also showed me the right way to do things, and taught me to believe in myself. All the kind of things I figured an older brother would do, and I always wanted an older brother." Tim waited, half expecting DiNozzo to laugh or give him a noogie or tell him what a dweeb he was. No words came, though, and he pushed forward again.

"The point is, Tony, that you're one of the strongest people I've ever met. You should know that. You should know it because I should have told you that before. But I'm telling you now. I know you're tired. And I know you need to rest. But I also know that you can _do_ this. Two more sets. That's all I'm asking, okay?"

He waited, hoping his words would have made a difference, his arm around Tony's middle tightening ever so slightly. For a minute, when there was no response, he feared the older man might just have fallen asleep. Then he felt the slight movement of Tony shifting into position, taking on more of his own weight.

"Two more, huh?" Tony grunted, sounding wheezy. He tilted his head until he caught Tim's eye. "Bring it on."

Tim smiled, a look of relief lighting his face, and he moved his arm until it rested in the center of Tony's back, ready to assist him again.

Gibbs watched silently from the doorway, hidden out of sight of either man. He'd only arrived back at the hospital to relieve Tim a few moments ago, and neither man was aware of his presence yet. A half-smile formed on his face, and there was a warmth in his eyes that few had ever seen. He was proud of McGee. That was something Tony needed to hear, and he was glad Tim had stepped up to the plate. He was impressed with the way his team rallied around DiNozzo, knowing instinctively what was necessary to help Tony heal, body and soul. Confident that the junior agent had things well in hand, he decided to give them a few more minutes alone.

He walked off in search of coffee, vaguely hoping his own apology to Tony would go as well.

~0~

Tony was bored. He'd already been in this hospital room for six days, plus another three in the ICU. He had long since started badgering Brad about his expected release date, and the Michigan grad had been giving him no firm answers, merely praising his progress with one breath and telling him not to rush things with the next. McGee had brought him his laptop, along with the portable hard drive that held many of the movies that he'd ripped from his DVD collection. Abby never showed up empty handed, bringing him an eclectic mix of gadgets and hand held games to help keep him entertained, along with a voodoo doll that not so surprisingly resembled his respiratory therapist. Tony kept that one hidden beneath his pillow. He and Abby played poker or canasta when he was able to stay awake long enough, and she spent plenty of time curled up next to him while he rested, watching the TV with the CC captioning on. Ziva had brought him a bag full of magazines, from _GSM_ to _People_ to _Hot Rod,_ the special collector's edition on muscle cars. Ducky's gifts tended to be more upscale reading, though Tony did his best to keep the rest of the team from knowing that he actually _liked_ reading Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's works, since it would probably ruin his image as a mindless frat boy. Even Jimmy had been great, sneaking in food that was definitely on the 'not allowed' list and getting declarations of love from the senior agent every time.

The only fly in the ointment was Gibbs. Not for lack of trying on the older man's part. He'd been there every bit as much as the others, generally taking the overnight shift, coming in and sleeping in the slightly more comfortable chair that Lindsay, the night nurse, had moved into his room when she saw Gibbs had no intention of leaving. Though he wasn't one to bring gifts to the ailing DiNozzo, he did come bearing cold case files for Tony to work on when the boredom threatened to drive him out of his mind. He was there during the worst of the breathing issues, holding the basin while Tony coughed up the disgusting crap that lined his lungs, wiping his face when he was sweating with the exertion and holding him upright when he was too exhausted to do it on his own. And while Tony appreciated all of the effort made on his behalf, he couldn't seem to feel comfortable whenever his Boss was around.

Every emotion that he had felt over the past few months, ever since that damned explosion had ripped away the only stability in his life, had coalesced into a certainty that they would never get back the easy familiarity they once had, and the exhaustion Tony felt honestly left him with little desire to try. Maybe it was time to call it a day, to let go of the hope that possibly one day Gibbs wouldn't mind the role Tony had thrust him into, that of being a stand-in for Tony's own negligent father. Perhaps it was time to put aside the idea that the man would ever be anything more than his boss, and a distant, angry bastard of one at that.

NCIS was still home for Tony, and even a failed relationship with Gibbs wasn't enough to drive him away from the one place he'd learned to feel comfortable in since college. That it had likely been the older man's influence that made it feel like home wasn't something he was going to admit.

The change in their relationship was inevitable. Tony knew better than to think Gibbs would have been willing to put up with him and his unorthodox methods forever. The explosion and resulting Mexican hiatus had probably only fast-forwarded what would have eventually have come to pass anyway. And while the thought of working as part of the team without Gibbs's trust and respect was decidedly unappealing, it was better than the alternative, at least for now. Who knew what the future would hold.

He had more pressing worries at the moment. It seemed that Brad was finally getting ready to sign him out of here in another day or two, and out of some weird sense of obligation, Gibbs was apparently planning to bring him back to his own home to finish his recuperation. Tony wasn't sure he was up to keeping the mask on 24/7, and that meant he needed to find an alternative, fast.

He looked up at Abby, who was currently running her hands up and down his legs, alternating between the left and the right, trying to combat the unrelenting itchiness of the morphine. She was the only one who felt comfortable enough to do that for him, and he couldn't begin to express his gratitude. It made him think his request would be more likely to be met with favor.

"So, I was thinking," he began.

She grinned up at him, giving him her standard reply. "Was it painful?" She knew better than anybody that DiNozzo's skull housed a far superior brain than anyone gave the sophomoric agent credit for, but she still aided him in keeping that under wraps.

"Ha-ha. No. But I kind of have a favor to ask."

"Anything for you, Tony-bear. You know that. Well, except for that one, tiny little thing."

Tony grinned back at her lasciviously. "You know you'd never regret it if you did," he promised confidently.

"Maybe not, but you would, because you _know_ Gibbs would kill you."

His smile at their playful banter dimmed. "Yeah, about that." He decided to lay it all out for her. "Look, is there any chance you'd be willing to shack up with me for a few days once I get out of here? I promise to be on my best behavior. I know Brad is not going to let me go home alone, and I'd really rather be back at my apartment than have to stay with someone else."

"But Tony, you always stay with Gibbs when you're hurt!"

"No, I don't," he disagreed, not wanting to go down that path right now.

"Do to! What about that time you wrenched your knee falling out of the airplane?"

"I didn't fall," DiNozzo grumbled. "I was pushed."

Abby smiled. "Semantics. Or that time you got a concussion when the poor lady went all Betty Crocker after being locked in a bunker in a wedding dress and took you out with a lamp even though you were only there to rescue her?" She ticked off another finger. "Or the last time you had the plague, and you went home with Gibbs because you were weak as a kitten, and he made you chicken soup and let you bring over your flat-screen TV and your DVD player and everything? Gibbs has always been there when you've been hurt or sick."

Tony's eyes darkened. "Not always, Abs."

Her face softened, and she frowned at him, coming over to sit on the edge of the bed. She placed a hand on his shoulder and looked deeply into his eyes. "Oh, Tony," she said sympathetically. "Things were pretty tough for you when he was gone, weren't they?" She waited, but Tony said nothing, neither confirming nor denying her statement. "I'm sorry if I made it harder on you."

Tony's brow furrowed at this, and he reached down and took hold of her hand. "You didn't, Abs. Not really."

"I'm sure it didn't make you feel great to see how much I missed Gibbs. I kind of fell apart a lot," she argued.

"But you let me be the one to help put you back together," he smiled, chucking her under the chin, "and I was glad to be able to do that. You're my best friend, you know?"

Her smile grew impossibly wide at that bold statement coming from the man who normally kept such thoughts to himself. "I know, silly," she beamed.

He turned her hand over in his, rubbing a thumb gently over her palm. "Then will you come stay with me? Please? I'd really rather be home in my own bed this time." He didn't add that at one point, he'd come to see the bed in Gibbs' guest room as his own. Those days were gone.

Abby's smile faltered, and her green eyes were filled with concern for her friend. "You know Gibbs wants to fix this, don't you?" she asked quietly.

Tony snorted softly, not quite sure he agreed with her. Didn't matter, anyway. "Some things can't be fixed, Abs."

TBC...

A/N: Apologies to those who are tired of waiting for 'the big discussion' - it's coming, I promise! But after all he's been through, something told me Tony wouldn't make it easy on Gibbs. A wink and a nod goes to AZGirl for her beta and encouragement.


	18. Games

_Chapter 17_

Abby paced her lab, wringing her hands to keep from reaching for her fourth Caf-Pow! in under an hour. Her boots sounded like the Budweiser Clydesdales as they clattered on the floor, the jangling of her chains reminiscent of the animals' harnesses. She knew she had to do something, and fast, because Tony was being released tomorrow, but for the life of her, she couldn't see any way out of her predicament. She gave up resisting the drink and grabbed it, taking a huge slurp before turning to Ducky.

"I promised him, Ducky! I told him I'd come and stay with him, and now I have to! I mean, this is Tony! And he never, ever, _ever_ asks for help, but he asked _me_ to be the one to help him out when he gets out of the hospital! Do you know how cool that is? That he wants it to be _me_? Except it's supposed to be Gibbs. It's always been Gibbs. And just because things are a little hinky with them right now doesn't change that. But Tony asked me, so how could I say no?" She stopped moving and faced the medical examiner with pleading green eyes, counting on his years of experience and wisdom to offer her a solution.

For once, the elderly Scotsman didn't have a similar tale to share, and he returned her gaze, quietly thinking the matter over. "I agree with you, Abigail. It is indeed quite a quandary you face. I do realize what you had hoped would be accomplished, but if Anthony asked _you_, than I'm afraid . . ."

"DiNozzo asked you for what?" Gibbs asked, breezing into the lab with his impeccable timing.

Abby saw him, and her eyes went wide. She immediately clamped her mouth shut, biting down on her lips to keep from blurting out the truth. Ducky turned away and began innocently fiddling with the mass spectrometer, idly trying to stay beneath Gibbs' radar rather than give away a secret that was not his to share.

Gibbs' eyes narrowed at the sudden silence in the room, not liking the implications. If DiNozzo was asking Abby for something she didn't want to share with him, it couldn't be a good thing. His Senior Field Agent was the second most stubborn man he knew, and Tony was downright careless when it came to his own health and well-being. If DiNozzo had some harebrained scheme with Abby that was going to impede his recovery, Gibbs damn well wanted to know about it. He reached forward and plucked the Caf-Pow! out of her hands, holding it away from her. He could see the pout on her face even as she kept her lips tightly clamped. She lifted her chin haughtily and mimicked turning a key in a lock over her mouth.

"Abby," he said, her name serving as a threat and a warning all rolled into one.

She whimpered, and he could see her resolve was crumbling, so he voiced the question again, gently. "What did Tony say, Abs?"

She unlocked her lips. "He asked me to come stay with him when he goes home tomorrow," she answered in a rush, before turning the key back once more.

Gibbs stopped, surprised by the revelation. He had just assumed DiNozzo would be staying at his place. It was just the way they did things. To know that Tony was upset enough over recent events that he was doing his best to avoid Gibbs altogether was not good indeed. Gibbs had thought maybe they'd made some progress during their time together in the basement.

He ran his hand over his mouth, feeling the mustache there and suddenly irritated by its presence. To all outward appearances he was calm, but his mind was racing. He had no doubts why DiNozzo wanted Abby to stay with him. Tony was hurting, and not just as a result of the injuries and illness he had sustained. When he hurt, DiNozzo tended to go to ground, but the younger man surely knew his team would never allow him to go off alone and lick his wounds. Having Abby there was the next best thing since she was the one least likely to push Tony in a direction he didn't want to go.

Apparently DiNozzo wasn't going to make things easy on him.

A part of him felt slightly annoyed that his agent had gone behind his back to set things up, but the other side was actually proud of the younger man's deviousness. But Gibbs hadn't lied when he told Tony they had a conversation to finish, and he had every intention of doing so. He hadn't yet because he'd been waiting for the right time, confident that once he had Tony firmly ensconced at his home, the younger man would lower his defenses enough to be willing to listen. He still believed that to be true and was determined to do something about it. So Tony wanted to do a little behind the scenes orchestrating, did he? Well, two could play at that game.

He handed Abby back her cup and placed his hands on her shoulders, looking deeply into her eyes. "Abs, I need you to do me a favor . . ."

~0~

Tony tried not to watch as Dr. Adams removed the last of the staples in his abdomen, the older man keeping up a running commentary as he worked that Tony found strangely soothing. He was glad to be getting rid of the little metal pieces that had been keeping his internal organs inside where they belonged, but he thought the instrument used to remove them looked more like a device for torture. He was sure he'd seen something similar in Ziva's personal arsenal once.

"Looking good, Tony," the doctor commented as he placed steri-strips over the pink still-healing surgical site. He finished up with a watertight dressing and some advice on lotions that could be used to minimize the scarring before removing his gloves with a snap. "I'll have Shelli go over the discharge instructions with you before your ride gets here." He peered over the top of his wire-rimmed glasses. "You do have someone coming to give you a ride, yes?"

Tony nodded. "Abby should be here soon," he answered, even as she hurried through the doorway, stopping uncertainly at seeing Tony's exposed abdomen. He waved her over, knowing she would want to see the area for herself.

She grinned, coming closer and looking her fill. "Oh, Tony – the ladies are going to _love_ this one."

Tony huffed. "You make it sound like I have a collection, Abby."

She tilted her head to the side thoughtfully. "You kinda do. I've seen most of them."

Tony gave her a mega-grin. "But not all," he teased.

"Yet," she threw back confidently.

Dr. Adams merely shook his head, wisely staying silent on the subject. He packed up his tools and made to leave, pausing in the doorway. "I'll send the nurse in to see you in a few minutes," he said with a wave. "And I know Brad wants a word before you go as well."

Tony nodded, watching him leave, before taking the small duffle bag from Abby's hands. He'd been wearing his own sweats and t-shirts for the last few days, but needed the sweatshirt he'd asked her to pick up. His fever might be gone, but he was still having problems staying warm and wasn't looking forward to venturing outside in the cool fall air.

Abby refused to let go of the handles, biting her lip nervously.

Tony frowned at her, wondering what was up. He looked at her pointedly.

"I picked up your mail when I stopped by your apartment," she began to explain.

He waited, knowing there had to be a point.

"And I found this stuck in your box." She handed him an off-white piece of paper with typing on it, then proceeded to explain it as if he couldn't read it for himself. "They're fumigating your building again. Starting tomorrow. Said they were sorry for the inconvenience, but it will be several days before you can go back home."

Tony felt the beginnings of a headache at the change in plans, but refused to let it drag him down. He released a breath. "No problem. I can just stay at your place, right? In your guest coffin?" He waggled his eyebrows.

"Normally, I'd say yes," Abby said, bouncing slightly in agitation. "But I'm having the placed painted this week."

"Again? Didn't you just have it done a few months ago?"

Abby refused to meet his gaze. "Well, black is kind of hard to maintain," she mumbled.

"So where are _you_ staying?" Tony asked pointedly.

"Um, Sister Rosita said I could stay with her for a few days."

Tony leaned back against the pillows, still clutching the paper she'd given him, feeling annoyed. "So what am I supposed to do?"

"Well," Abby hedged, "Gibbs said you could stay with him." She still wouldn't look at DiNozzo, knowing he'd read the truth in her eyes.

Tony felt his annoyance blossom into anger, and he wished he felt well enough to stand up and walk it off. He didn't want to blow up at Abby, but honestly, he hated the fact that she was playing him. "I thought we were supposed to be friends."

Her eyes returned to his, startled, and her lower lip began to tremble. "Of course we are, Tony," she pleaded.

"So, your number one rule only applies to you? It doesn't matter if you lie to someone else, as long as nobody lies to you?" Even as he said the words, he wished he could take them back. He was horrified to see her eyes fill and overflow as she stood in front of him.

He reached out and pulled her immediately into his arms, drawing her close and running his hand over her hair. "I'm sorry," he stated, hating that he'd made her cry. "I'm sorry, Abs. I didn't mean it, okay? I'm not mad. I shouldn't have said that. Please don't cry anymore. Please?" he said somewhat frantically. Like any red-blooded male, a woman's tears put him on edge, but this woman especially – it killed him to see her upset, knowing it was his fault.

She sniffed and pulled away slightly. "No, you're right. I shouldn't have lied to you. You should be mad at me."

He ran a thumb over her cheek, erasing the traces of her tears. "I'm not mad, Abs. Pinky swear."

She gave a little huff of laughter. "I'm sorry, Tony. But, you get why I'm saying no, don't you? It's important to Gibbs to be able to take care of you. "_You're_ important to Gibbs, even if you don't believe it right now. But it's still true. And he wants to be able to prove that to you." She sat up straighter, pulling away and looking deeply into his eyes. "You scared him, Tony. He really thought he was going to lose you. You should have seen him those first few days before you woke up. He wanted to believe you were going to be okay, but he was afraid you wouldn't be. You're family to him, Tony. We all are. And he's already lost one family."

She paused for a moment, biting her lip. "And even though he knows you're going to be okay now, I think he's still afraid," she confided.

"Afraid of what?" Tony asked hesitantly.

"Afraid that he's already lost you." She fell silent, hoping her words wouldn't push her friend further away. She knew he didn't deal well with feelings and emotions, yet she had watched for years as he fought to earn a place in the team leader's life, something he'd often thought unattainable. But the paradox that was Tony was more likely to turn and run from the one thing he desired when it was finally offered to him, rather than believe it was actually a possibility.

She allowed him a few minutes to think it over, choosing to remain silent, while he debated internally.

Finally he sighed. "You sure he's willing to have me?" Tony asked, only referring to staying with Gibbs.

Abby smiled, believing in what Tony never could – that Gibbs wanted him not just in his home for a few weeks, but as a permanent fixture in his life. "Yes, Tony. I'm sure."

He felt himself giving in despite his better judgment, and he nodded. "Okay," he agreed reluctantly, before crumpling up the notice in his hands and tossing it in the garbage can across the room. "Oh, and Abby?" he said, waiting until he had her full attention.

"Yeah?"

"Just so you know, you suck at lying."

She grinned at him happily. "I know."

TBC . . .

_A/N: I know, it's **really** short, and not much happens, but I wanted to leave you all with a parting gift as I head off today for some time in the mountains of West Virginia (and the land of no internet - woe is me!). I won't be able to respond to your reviews in a timely manner, but please know how incredibly grateful I am for them - they are the hazelnut cream in my coffee. You guys are the best! And a "muchas gracias" to my Speedy Gonzalez of a beta, AZGirl._


	19. Inevitable

_A/N: I'm sure you all thought I fell off a mountain in West Virginia! My sincere apologies - I have spent three of the last four weeks away, most of that time with no internet, and all if it with no time to write. I also apologize to all of you wonderful readers who left a review that I did not personally respond to - unforgivable! But please see above as the reason why. :) And without further ado, the next chapter:  
_

_Chapter 18_

Gibbs' steps nearly faltered as he came upstairs from the basement to the sight of Abby and Tony curled up together on his couch, a blanket over a sleepy-looking DiNozzo and his arm firmly around the scientist's shoulders while her head lay on his chest. It wasn't the fact that they were cuddled up together that gave him pause; no, he held no illusions that they were anything more than friends. What caused him to hesitate was the fact that he thought this might be the first time that Tony had actually ventured out of the bedroom to sit in the main part of the house.

In the six days since Tony had come here from the hospital, the only times Gibbs had seen him had been when he'd dropped meals off into the younger man's room, or when he'd gone in during the night to watch his Senior Field Agent sleep. Sleep was something DiNozzo did an awful lot of these days. Initially, that sleep had been liberally peppered with coughing fits that sounded as if the younger man was on death's doorstep, and more than once Gibbs had been tempted to drag his ass back to Bethesda. The last two days had seen Tony coughing less, and Gibbs was grateful for the respite; grateful that Tony finally seemed to be getting some decent sleep.

He knew that the agent's need for sleep was real, but he couldn't help but wish his ailing guest would at least feel comfortable enough here to cross the threshold of his bedroom's doorway for something other than a trip to the bathroom. In times past when DiNozzo had spent his recovery periods here at the house, he'd usually camp out on the couch in the living room, nodding off during whatever movie he had running in the background, but always right where Gibbs could keep a watchful eye on him. The fact that he was holed up in the bedroom that Gibbs no longer considered a guest room, since Tony was the only guest who ever made use of it, was just one more sign that things were still off between them.

And apparently, he was back to being just 'Gibbs' again. There hadn't been a single 'Boss' uttered since that day in the basement on Lawrence's farm. A sad smile came to his face as he remembered his Kelly's declaration shortly after her eighth birthday that she was 'too old' to be calling him 'daddy' anymore – he would have to be 'dad.' Whenever she was hurt, or sick though, it had always been 'daddy' she had called out for.

He doubted DiNozzo would appreciate the comparison.

Gibbs felt a moment's pang of guilt over manipulating DiNozzo into being here, knowing the younger man would have been much more comfortable in his own place. He wished briefly that he had given in and let DiNozzo go to his apartment, offering to stay with him there, but he knew that given that option, he would be Tony's last choice for nursemaid, and that never would have given them the chance to talk that they so desperately needed.

Not that they were any closer to it now. They'd barely said ten words to each other in the entire time Tony had been here. Gibbs thought about forcing the issue, at least requesting that his agent make it to the table for dinner, but the truth was that Tony still looked like crap, and he couldn't be one hundred percent certain that he wasn't in his room simply because he needed the peace and quiet. It didn't necessarily mean that he was avoiding Gibbs.

Not necessarily.

But probably.

Abby's presence here on the couch seemed to confirm that likelihood, and he wondered vaguely how long she'd been here. He tended to get lost down in the basement, and time had a way of passing him by. It was one of the things he appreciated most about being down there. And it didn't necessarily mean he was avoiding DiNozzo.

Not necessarily.

But . . .

He quickly shut down that train of thought, and turned, aborting his plan of checking on the younger agent's wellbeing. Making a quick stop at the refrigerator, he grabbed a beer and retreated back the way he'd come.

One of these days, they damn well needed to talk.

But maybe not today.

~0~

DiNozzo dozed on and off through the movie Abby had brought with her. "While You Were Sleeping" was hardly on his must-see list, but apparently the Goth had a soft spot for chick flicks. And hey, it was Sandra Bullock. Even if the movie totally sucked, at least he could enjoy the scenery.

A small part of his mind registered the opening and closing of the basement door, but when he finally got his eyelids to cooperate and partially open, there was no sign of Gibbs. It was probably just as well. He had no idea what to say to his boss these days, so he generally avoided saying anything at all. He knew it was cowardly to hide out in the bedroom feigning sleep, but right now, it seemed like the easiest course of action. Besides, he _was_ tired. But maybe not as tired as he had led the others to believe. Truth was, he was approaching the threshold of his boredom level, and thought it might be time to change tactics. If he made a sudden miraculous recovery, then maybe Gibbs would allow him to go back to his own apartment, and they wouldn't have to suffer through this awkwardness between them.

Though why the older man even offered to give him a place to stay during his recovery was beyond him. He still wasn't sure Abby had been on the mark when she told him Gibbs wanted him here. More likely was the fact that it was the way they'd done things in the past, and Gibbs was only doing it because it was expected. Tony refused to believe it was even as simple as Gibbs feeling guilty. The team leader didn't _do_ guilt, and no one knew that better than Tony. He simply wasn't wired that way, even if Tony did believe the older man had more than enough that he _should_ feel guilty about.

Gibbs had screwed him over royally, both when he left for Mexico without a word, and then when he returned. And no matter how much Tony might wish he could, he was unable to simply let that slide like he had all the other times when Gibbs had treated him unfairly. Enough was enough. Even Anthony DiNozzo Jr. could only spend so much time as a doormat for the Almighty Gibbs before he stopped letting things roll off his back. The man needed to apologize already, though Tony knew it would be a cold day in hell before he actually did.

He felt Abby shift inside the circle of his arms, and looked down at her as she paused the DVD. Lifting herself up onto one arm, her green eyes studied him somberly.

"You're thinking too hard," she pointed out.

"Just trying to banish the thought of landing on a pencil in somebody's pocket during a basketball game forever from my head," he deflected, wincing as he recalled the scene from the movie.

"Well, that's the good thing about testicles – they come in pairs," she responded philosophically.

"Abby!" Somehow, he still managed to be shocked at how this woman's brain functioned.

She sat up and swung her legs off the couch, pressing the stop button on the DVD and watching as the screen turned to black, before turning to face him again. "Except that's not what you were thinking about."

"It is _now_," he grumbled.

"You're as bad a liar as I am. And I won't even point out that you broke Abby's Number One rule." She scowled at him.

"Didn't."

"Intent to lie is just as bad as actually lying, buster, and don't you forget it. I'll toss you in the brig and throw away the key." She laid a gentle hand on his chest. "You know things will be easier if you just talk to him."

This time, it was Tony who swung his legs off the couch, standing up and nearly tumbling as the blanket tangled in his legs. He reached down and grabbed it, flinging it off him and onto the couch next to her. "Nothing to talk about. I keep telling you that."

"That's not true and you know it. He _hurt_ you, Tony. I get that. I really do. But if you don't talk to him about, don't give him a chance to apologize . . ."

"Gibbs doesn't apologize, Abby. Not ever. And certainly not to me. And I'm not asking him to. I know he's a bastard. I've known it since the day I met him, and it's never stopped me from working with him before."

She stood to face him, her eyes several inches beneath his without her platforms on, and she looked up at him beseechingly. "So that means you'll stay, right? You're not going anywhere?"

He stared down at her for several minutes, her warning about lying ringing fresh in his ears, but knowing he could never tell her the truth, even if it was that he didn't know what he was going to do yet. But they'd been friends for long enough that she could read the answer on his face, and he watched her lip begin to tremble. "The only place I'm going," he answered, bending slightly to bestow a kiss on her forehead, "is to bed. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?" He turned before she could say anything else and headed up the stairs, leaving behind one very upset forensic scientist.

~0~

Gibbs looked up at the sound of heavy footsteps on the stairs, surprised that DiNozzo would venture down here. Except it was Abby who descended, and he could tell by her face that she was upset. He set down the plank he'd been getting ready to lay and watched as she tromped over to him.

"He's leaving, Gibbs. You have to stop him."

He pushed aside his irritation with DiNozzo. "He's a grown man, Abby, and he's doing better. If he wants to go back to his apartment, I can't stop him."

"No!" Abby cried. "That's not what I meant. He's not leaving _here_, he's leaving _us_. NCIS."

Gibbs stopped and looked at her. "He tell you that?"

She shook her head. "No. But it's true, just the same. I can tell."

Gibbs ran a hand through his silver hair, shaking loose a few flecks of sawdust. "Just what do you want me to do about it?" he asked, his frustration bleeding through.

She stood to her full height, glaring at him with everything she had. "Fix. It." Turning on her heel, she moved quickly up the stairs, and a few moments later, he heard the front door slam.

He moved over to the stool and sat down heavily. He wished he could say that Abby's news came as a surprise, but he'd seen the truth in DiNozzo's eyes for days now. Since long before the shooting, if he were being honest with himself. DiNozzo's tendency to pack up and run was a pattern that long preceded his relationship with Gibbs. Jethro had hoped he'd broken him of that habit, what with his five-year anniversary at NCIS looming, but apparently he'd been wrong. Not that he could blame him. He'd certainly given Tony more than enough reason to want to pack it in.

Gibbs knew there were plenty of others who would offer him a job, Fornell being top on the list, but he also believed that Tony needed more than just a career. Abby, Ducky, McGee, Ziva – they were family for Tony; the only ones he had. Giving them up now would only cause the younger man to flounder, and Gibbs never wanted to see DiNozzo in that position again. If his own relationship with Tony couldn't be repaired, than Tony would need the others more than ever. No, there was only one solution that he could see. Only one choice that made any sense. He thought about it long and hard for several minutes, but he couldn't see any other option.

The anger over the situation built inside him rapidly and boiled over, and he flung his mug of bourbon against the far wall, feeling no satisfaction when it shattered into hundreds of pieces with a loud crash.

There might only be one option.

But he sure as hell didn't have to like it.

~0~

Tony had just come back downstairs to retrieve his forgotten cell phone when he heard the crash in the basement. He knew Abby had already left, so that left only Gibbs, and the older man had never been clumsy. Years of training and instinct kicked in, and he moved quickly to the bookshelf, taking Gibbs' gun out of the box it was kept in and checking to make sure the safety was off. He slipped downstairs as stealthily as possible, stopping on the landing when he saw that Gibbs was alone and apparently unharmed. He descended the few remaining steps to where Gibbs was standing, checking him over.

"You all right?"

"Fine," Gibbs answered shortly, uncomfortable with being caught out in his display of anger.

"I heard a crash," Tony explained.

"Said I was fine, DiNozzo."

Tony eyed him closely, before nodding. He walked over and laid Gibbs' weapon on the workbench in front of the other man. "Yeah. Guess you are" he said flatly, before he turned to make his way back up the steps.

Gibbs watched him, saw the closed look on his face, and knew that it was way past time to deal with this, so he gathered up his courage. Maybe they couldn't make things right, or get them back to the way they were. But Abby was still counting on him to fix this, and he would, to the best of his ability. No more putting it off.

Tony was halfway up the stairs when Gibbs' words stopped him dead in his tracks.

"I'm giving Jen my resignation. Officially, this time."

Tony felt an ache deep in his chest that he couldn't begin to describe. He stood there, staring down at the steps in front of him, feeling as if an eternity passed in only seconds as emotions fought within him for supremacy. Disbelief, abandonment, frustration, resignation, despair – but anger was the one he allowed free reign, though he kept it tightly under control. He turned to face the man he had once admired more than anyone he'd ever met. Still did, even if most of what he felt lately was hurt and disappointment.

"Am I supposed to act surprised? Or should I save that look for when you return and dump my shit all over my old desk again?"

~0~

Gibbs felt the glare Tony had turned his way, and it was admirable in its intensity, but it didn't change his resolve. There was only one way left to mend this situation that had gone way beyond FUBAR, and though it killed him, he'd do what was best for Tony.

"Won't come back. Won't do that to you again. They're your team now."

Tony snorted. "The_ hell _they are! They never have been! Not once, in any time during the six months since you got blown up, have they_ ever _been _my_ team! They're yours, Gibbs, and always will be. And if you could stop running away long enough to see that, we'd all be better off." He walked down the remaining steps, coming to stand a few feet from where Gibbs sat by the workbench, his stance deceptively casual.

Gibbs doubted any of them would be better off, but he ignored that for the obvious. "I'm not running away, DiNozzo. I'm leaving. There's a difference."

"Not from where I'm standing."

Gibbs' own anger and defensiveness reared its head. "Well, maybe if you took your head out of your ass, you'd see it my way."

Tony felt his anger flare and made no attempt to hold onto it. Enough already. This man wanted a piece of his mind; he was damn sure going to get it. "Oh, your way. _Your_ way. Well, why didn't you say so? I mean, I guess I should have known, because it _always_ has to be_ your_ way. To hell with what anyone else wants or needs, as long as the Great Almighty Leroy Jethro Gibbs gets _his_ way. Not like it's ever been done any other way. I should be used to it by now, right? Doesn't matter if I'm the one stuck holding the bag. Or if I'm the one left trying to explain it all to Abby while she's crying her heart out on a daily basis. Or if I'm the one who has to deal with McPompous or Super-Ninja Assassin Ziva David and their colossal egos and undying loyalty to L.J. Gibbs. As long as _you _get _your_ way, it doesn't really matter what any of the rest of us want, right?"

Gibbs bit down on his tongue, barely holding back his own temper. "I didn't mean it like that, DiNozzo."

Tony paced in front of him, the adrenaline flow leaving him unable to sit still, and the sarcasm dripping from his words. "No? Well, then, how exactly did you mean it? Why don't you explain it to me? Share with me your wisdom on why you're once again passing through the revolving door of NCIS and riding off into the Mexican sunset. Because I'm sure it's a perfectly reasonable explanation that will leave me feeling completely enlightened."

Despite his attempts at restraint, Gibbs' temper got the better of him, and he stood, anger rippling through his expression. "I'm leaving because it's pretty damn obvious we can't work together anymore!" he shouted.

The words, more than the anger in them, took the wind out of Tony's sails, and he stopped, his brow furrowing as he stared at Gibbs.

Gibbs pulled in a deep breath, trying to regain his sense of calm in the deathly silence that followed. He hadn't meant to let that slip, but now that it was out, he knew he needed to follow up on it. "I don't blame you for that. I know it's my fault. Know that I'm the one who destroyed what . . ." he hesitated, searching for words, "what we had, the team we were. But you're ready to lead this team, DiNozzo. You did . . . a hell of a job when I was gone last time, and I should have told you that. Should have told you a lot of things." He turned away, grabbing the nearest Mason jar and dumping its contents on the bench before reaching for the bottle of bourbon.

"Yeah, you should have," Tony agreed quietly. "I needed that, you know? Needed more than just, 'You'll do.'"

Gibbs winced as his words were thrown back at him, hating the way they sounded.

"I mean, what the hell kind of encouragement is that?" Tony asked, winding up again. "_'You'll do?_' '_Since there's no one else standing nearby, I guess it will have to be you?'_ Five freakin' years, Gibbs. Nearly five freakin' years that I worked for you, schlepped for you, took all of your crap, and that's the best you could give me? I deserved more, don't you think?"

Gibbs took a long sip, not willing to look DiNozzo in the face, while he thought about what to say, what to do. He'd created this situation. And it was true he believed there was no hope in hell of repairing the damage. But that didn't let him off the hook. There were things he needed to tell Tony, things the other man needed to hear before Gibbs left them for the final time. He should have said them before. He wouldn't make that mistake again.

He sighed. "Yeah, Tony, you deserved more. A hell of a lot more." He glanced up at green eyes that were filled with bitterness and disappointment, and scrubbed a hand over his face, grimacing once again at that damned mustache. "Look, you more than anyone know I'm not one for flowery speeches. When I said 'you'll do,' I wasn't saying you were the best choice out of limited options. I was saying . . . I was_ trying_ to say that I thought you were ready. That I _believed _you could lead the team, and lead them well." He turned back to face his agent, searching the face before him.

"You remember when we were locked in that basement? You told me then that I handed over to you the two things that mattered in my life more than anything else – my team and my job. And you were right. That's exactly what I did. But not because I was running away. It was because I _knew,_ without a shadow of a doubt, that _you_ were the one that could handle them with the care they deserved. I did a piss-poor job of letting you know that you were the only one I would entrust those two things to. And I regret that, more than you'll ever know. Hell, I regret a lot of things."

He finished the bourbon and turned away again, reaching for the bottle. Part of him would like nothing more than to get hammered before finishing this discussion, but he knew that wouldn't help anything. He poured another finger and held the glass loosely, not drinking. He glanced again at DiNozzo, encouraged to see a fraction less anger in the face that gazed back at him, though he could a see a question lingering in the eyes, and he waited, wondering if Tony would ask, or simply lock it away.

Apparently curiosity won out.

"Do you regret leaving? The first time?"

And there was the million-dollar question. Gibbs knew he'd have to answer carefully, but he also knew that he could give Tony nothing less than the truth. The younger man would see through anything else in a heartbeat, but Gibbs doubted DiNozzo would like the answer.

"No."

Tony gazed back at him impassively before nodding slowly and turning away.

"Hear me out, DiNozzo," Gibbs pleaded, waiting until his agent turned to face him again warily.

"I don't know if you'll understand this, but I had to go. I couldn't stay. When I . . . " he stopped and drew a breath that was as close to shaky as the Marine would allow, "when I lost my family . . . when I lost Shannon and Kelly, it _destroyed_ me. They were _everything_ to me. Everything. I almost didn't make it through that time in my life." He paused, unwilling to go into the details of long nights spent sitting in the dark, holding his service revolver and fighting with himself over whether or not to pull the trigger. Some days, he still didn't know why he hadn't, but that wasn't something he would share with anyone, not even Tony.

"It took me . . . a long time to deal with that. To lock it all away. I never wanted to be known as 'the guy who lost his family.' I never wanted anyone's pity. That's why I never mentioned them, never told anyone about them. But when I woke up in that damn hospital, I'd just lost them all over again. I needed to leave, to get away so I could get my head screwed on again. Maybe the incident with the Cape Fear was just an excuse. I had some of my memory back, but not all of it, and nothing made sense. All I knew was that I needed space, and so I left. I didn't stop to think about what that would mean for Abby, or McGee and Ziva, or for you. I just left."

He almost stopped there, but there was still something he'd promised himself he'd do, and now seemed like the right time. He stood, raising a hand and placing it gently on Tony's shoulder.

"I'm sorry for that. Sorry for a lot of things." He held the other man's gaze for a moment, then squeezed his shoulder and dropped his hand.

He could tell the words had an impact that was not lost on DiNozzo, watching the young man's face as he struggled with disbelief, and knew he needed to clarify. "It's not a sign of weakness to admit when you've screwed up, DiNozzo. And I've definitely screwed up a lot where you're concerned."

He moved away, giving DiNozzo the time he would need to process things. As much as he hated these kinds of discussions, he was glad they were attempting to clear the air. A few of his marriages might have lasted longer if he'd done this with his wives, but then again, he didn't really regret losing them. He would regret it if he lost Tony from his life though. Regret it more than the loss of all three wives combined. He and DiNozzo wouldn't be working together anymore, _couldn't_ work together anymore, but maybe they could still part with some semblance of friendship between them. He hoped so. He'd come to rely on his senior agent in more ways than he could ever admit to.

He studied the younger man out of the corner of his eye, and wondered what was going through DiNozzo's mind.

TBC . . .

_A/N 2: Before you all pelt me with rotten tomatoes, let me just say this story is complete! The final chapter, followed by an epilogue, will be posted in the next day or two (as soon as I make the changes from my favorite beta, AZGirl). _


	20. Undeniable

_Chapter Nineteen_

In the wake of Gibbs' apology, Tony thought about making a joke about the Four Horseman approaching, but he didn't really feel much like joking. He wasn't too sure what he did feel, honestly. Gibbs had just_ apologized_ to him. To _him_. Anthony DiNozzo Jr. That had to be one for the books. It sure as hell had never happened before, and Tony doubted it would ever happen again. But he had said it. And it sounded like he meant it. He wouldn't have said it if he didn't mean it. In fact, in all the time Tony had known him, he'd never heard him say it at all. Not once. Not to anybody.

That had to count for something right?

But there was so much hurt and anger and bitterness between them, and so many things left unresolved. Tony still wanted answers to a lot of questions, and he was determined to get them. For the moment, he pushed aside Gibbs' apology, not sure what to make of it. He went back to the issue at hand, the way Gibbs had left without a word. He stood, moving around in agitation. "At first, I thought you just needed some time, you know? You'd just been blown up, and in a coma, and lost your memories, and, hey, that's got to take a toll on anybody, right?" His weak attempt at humor sounded lame to his own ears. "I figured you'd take a few weeks off to recover, but then you'd call, or check in, or – something. I don't know. But you didn't."

Gibbs faced him, saw the wounded eyes that were fixed on his, read the depth of emotion in that gaze, and cursed himself once again for how badly he had messed up. He knew DiNozzo had abandonment issues, knew they were brought on by the death of his mother followed by years of neglect by his bastard of a father. It had taken many nights and a fair amount of alcohol to pry even the barest of details from his agent about his childhood, and he'd only touched the tip of the iceberg. To have left Tony in this manner was the cruelest form of treatment he could have managed.

"I needed to talk to you, Gibbs," Tony continued. "It wasn't going so well, you know? Abby fell apart on a daily basis. You shattered her world when you left. McGee and Ziva – they found any and every excuse to stick it to me. They hated that I was in charge. They couldn't respect me, and I don't blame them for that. I know what I am."

Gibbs bristled at Tony's casual dismissal of his abilities, and moved to jump in with his opinion, but Tony continued before he'd opened his mouth.

"And I was trying to deal with the fact that you'd left. Abby wasn't the only one whose world was rocked." His face flushed as he admitted the embarrassing truth. "Pretty sure it's no secret to anyone that I looked up to you. You taught me everything I know about being a Federal Agent. You were always there, keeping an eye on me, watching my six, head-slapping me into shape. I relied on you, probably a lot more than I should. And suddenly, that was all gone; I had nobody to turn to, and I couldn't even take time to deal with it, because I had to worry about being there for everybody else, whether they wanted me or not." He sighed and walked over to the boat, running a hand idly over one of the ribs.

"The point is, Gibbs, the rest of them - they will never be _my_ team. Just not gonna happen." Tony purposely blocked out the memory of how he had felt just before Gibbs had returned for good, how things had improved and it had finally seemed like he might be able to call the team his own. "They're yours, through and through. It's _you_ they respond to, it's _you_ they respect. I was only, always, just a poor substitute." For some reason, this brought a smile to his face. "I agree with you. Pretty sure you and I can't work together any more. Things have just been . . . off . . . since you came back. I guess we lost our groove, you know? But if anyone should be leaving, it's me, not you. I've still got a few weeks of sick leave coming. I'll look into a transfer, or see if I can't find a job somewhere else. Resume won't even need much updating." The smile still pasted on his face was starting to feel distinctly false.

"_No_." Gibbs slammed the Mason jar down onto the workbench, paying no heed when the liquid sloshed over his hand. "No way in hell. You are _not_ leaving this job. You've worked hard to get where you are, and you've got a hell of a future ahead of you. I'm not letting you give that up, just so I can hang onto a career that's already past its expiration date." Fire burned in his eyes at the thought that this young man would sacrifice his own needs and desires so that Gibbs wouldn't be put out. He knew Tony had a habit of putting his well-being behind that of anyone else, and he shouldn't have been surprised by the offer, but pigs would fly before he'd accept that option.

But Tony was not about to allow his anger to be outdone. "I told you already, Gibbs, that it doesn't matter! They're not_ my_ team! I'm not _their_ leader! You already know how it is. I play the fool, and that's all people see. I get that, I really do. It's my choice. It's what I do. But we _both_ know that's not who I am. I always counted on you to see beyond that, to know the difference. But somewhere along the way, you forgot that."

Gibbs sighed. "I forgot a lot of things, Tony," he reminded quietly.

"Pretty crappy excuse, Gibbs," Tony began, and then stopped, and really thought about it. He had felt like the amnesia was just a convenient excuse at times, but the reality was that Gibbs had well and truly forgotten about them, and that had never been his choice. He'd called Tony 'McGee' often enough during the early days for Tony to know that the memory loss was real and completely out of the older man's control, something that undoubtedly rankled the team leader, who had more discipline and control in everything in his life than anyone Tony had ever met.

He realized that maybe he should cut him a little slack on this one. "Except, maybe it's not. I've been kind of blaming you for forgetting. Guess that's not really fair."

"No, maybe not. I never chose to forget you. Not any of you, and I wish to hell that I hadn't. But there's a hell of a lot else you _can_ blame me for, and you'd be right on every one of them."

"Like?" Tony already knew the answer to this question, but he wanted to see what Gibbs thought.

Gibbs held up a hand and started ticking off on his fingers. "Leaving you to pick up the mess I'd left behind. Leaving you with no way to contact me. Leaving you with Abby, McGee, Ziva and Ducky, knowing they'd all be looking to you to hold them together. Coming back for Ziva. And turning around and leaving again without so much as a goodbye. Coming back for Fornell." Here he raised his face and looked the younger man squarely in the eye. "Coming back from retirement and taking over the team again; 'dumping all your shit on your desk' as a way of telling you. That was inexcusable, even for me. You deserved better than that."

Tony let out a huff at the list Gibbs gave, torn between being grateful the other man at least realized how much he had hurt Tony, and being angry all over again. "Are you trying to get me pissed at you? Cuz I gotta warn you, at this point, it won't take much."

Gibbs allowed a half smile. "No Tony. I'm not trying to get you pissed. I'm trying to tell you it's all right that you already _are_. You've got a hell of a lot of reasons to be. I treated you like crap, DiNozzo. I know that. I've treated you like crap for a long time, way before Galib or the amnesia or any of that stuff. I've treated you like crap, because you've always taken it, and it never seemed to bug you. But I'm sorry for it now. I'm sorry for leaving you without so much as a goodbye. Sorry for coming back without telling you and tossing all your stuff on your desk, like it didn't matter. Like I didn't care about the fact that you'd kept everything running smoothly while I was running away in Mexico. Like I didn't know or care how good of a job you had done. And I'm sorry I've been avoiding you since I came back for good!" The volume of Gibbs' words had risen as they continued to roll of his tongue, and the sudden silence was abrupt. He grabbed the Mason jar and refilled it, no longer caring about staying fully sober. He needed the fortitude.

Tony wasn't sure what to say. The number of apologies in that statement, from a man who claimed never to make them, wasn't lost on him. But even if it was crazy, he still wanted more than an 'I'm sorry.' He wanted to understand _why_. He knew that if there was any hope of salvaging _something_ from this relationship, he needed to know why the other man acted as he had. He wanted to believe there could be a reason for it, wanted desperately to believe it. Because if there had been no real reason, if Gibbs had acted the way he had simply because he was the bastard he'd always claimed to be, than maybe Tony had never really known him at all. And that thought hurt, because it meant that the entire friendship he thought they once shared had truly only been one-sided. The thought of it sickened Tony, that he could have been so blind. He prayed it wasn't true, that there really had been a foundation to their friendship. But he needed answers, and he wasn't afraid to ask the questions.

"So why did you?" he spoke quietly.

Gibbs turned back in confusion. "Why did I what?" he asked, uncertain which offense DiNozzo was referring to.

DiNozzo waved his arm aimlessly. "Any of them. All of them." He wasn't looking for excuses, but he was determined to know the reasons behind it all.

Gibbs shook his head. He abandoned his drink and walked over to the stairs, sitting heavily on the landing. He told himself a hundred times that if Tony gave him the chance to explain, he would, and he would do it right, but now that the time was here, he was having trouble finding the words.

"I told you why I left the first time," he hedged.

"You did," Tony replied, not giving any quarter. "Now tell me why you took off again after you cleared Ziva from that assassination charge without so much as a goodbye."

Gibbs smiled slightly at Tony's response, saddened that he truly saw it that way. "_We _cleared her, DiNozzo. Not just me. _We_. And I left because I had a hot tub to finish." He watched as Tony's eyes darkened, and knew immediately he had said the wrong thing. "No, wait," he backtracked. "I didn't mean that. I just . . . " he sighed and sent a prayer heavenward that the words would come out right. "I wasn't ready yet. I needed more time before I could come back. I still wasn't sure coming back was the right thing to do. I didn't want to return, only to discover it had been a huge mistake, and I really should have stayed retired. I needed more time to figure it out."

"So you just took off again? Without so much as a goodbye? You know, you could have just told me then what you said just now. I would have gotten it, Gibbs. Instead, you left without a word. Why the hell would you do that?"

"Because if I had told you I was going to leave, I was pretty sure you'd be able to change my mind!" His anger came through in his words.

Tony studied him carefully. "Would that have been such a bad thing?"

Gibbs shook his head resignedly. "Maybe," he admitted. "If I had come back before I was ready to, I wouldn't have been any good to anybody. I could see that things were going pretty smoothly without me there. I could see you were doing every bit as well as I knew you would leading the team. I didn't want to come in and screw that up if I was just going to end up leaving again. And if I came back before I was ready to, I'd always wonder if it had been the right choice. I needed to _know_." He waited as Tony listened thoughtfully.

"Okay," the younger man finally answered, leaning back against the framework of the boat. "I kind of get that, I guess. What about everything else? The way you came back, and the way you've been treating me like crap since then."

Gibbs snorted in self-disgust. "Not sure I have much of an excuse for that. I think I just wanted everything back the way it was, and I was pig-headed enough to believe that if I acted like I'd never been gone, maybe everybody else would too. Not one of my brighter ideas. But I didn't plan it that way, Tony. The night I told Jen I'd come back to stay - I was just sitting there at four in the morning at the desk that used to be mine, and when I opened the drawer for a pen, I found my own medals that you've always kept staring back at me. It was like they were mocking me. Some hero, huh? So much for never leaving a man behind. I turned tail and ran at the first bump in the road. I saw them there, and I just snapped. I grabbed them up and took them over to your old desk. And then, I didn't stop. Just grabbed everything else that reminded me of what an ass I'd been and shoved it all out of the way, just so I wouldn't be faced with my own failure. But I never even thought of how it would look to you."

He pulled a hand over his face, regret etched into his features. "I wish I had. I wish I had pulled you aside and explained to you that my coming back had nothing to do with your ability to run the team. That it wasn't in any way a demotion. You deserved to know that much at least." He laughed bitterly. "Jen even told me that I should let you know you'd done a good job while I was gone. I wish I'd listened to her."

Tony felt his anger softening as the sound of Gibbs' words finally soothed his wounded soul. He had felt it had been a slap in the face, the way Gibbs had just moved everything over without a word. Seeing McGee's gleefully evil smile hadn't helped. And though a part of him didn't want to let Gibbs off the hook, he could see the regret was sincere. And he was tired of fighting. Tired of feeling like his family had been torn in two. He was tired of being at odds with Gibbs. He wanted their friendship back. More than anything, if he was being honest. "Did you just admit the Director was right?" Tony asked with a small smile, coming over slowly to sit beside Gibbs on the steps.

Gibbs cracked a smile. "First time for everything."

Tony nodded. "Lot of firsts tonight," he said, referring to the apology he'd received. They sat in a silence that was almost companionable for several minutes before Tony spoke again, not fully ready yet to move on. "And the rest? The way you've kind of ignored me since you came back? Pretty sure that wasn't just my imagination." He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck in his discomfort, hoping he didn't sound as if he was only whining now.

Gibbs nodded, willing to shoulder the blame for this as well. "It wasn't your imagination. I was . . . avoiding you, I guess. Just like I avoided the sight of those medals. You were another reminder of how much I had mucked things up. I knew I had disappointed you, and rather than just apologize and get it out in the open, I decided to stick my head in the sand and ignore that anything was wrong. And look where that got us."

Tony looked at him questioningly, not able to follow his train of thought.

"You nearly died, DiNozzo. Again," he said in exasperation.

Tony looked at him incredulously. "But that was hardly your fault, Gibbs! Don't get me wrong – I'm willing to blame you for a lot of what we've talked about tonight. But not that. Not your fault I got sick, and not your fault I got shot. Just part of the job."

Gibbs refused to give in. "You wouldn't have been shot if I hadn't taken you out there without proper backup. Which I would have, if I had listened to your theory about the wife being a suspect. And you wouldn't have been out there if I had realized you were getting sick. I know what getting sick means for you, and I have no desire to watch you go through that a third time."

"You know now, but you didn't know then."

Gibbs looked at him in irritation. "What?"

"Gibbs, you didn't even remember I'd had the plague, so you wouldn't have had any reason not to take me just because I wasn't feeling well. If anything, I should have told you I wasn't up to it!" Tony knew immediately those last words were a mistake, but it wasn't like he could take them back now. He cringed inwardly at the thought of incurring Gibbs' wrath, and was surprised and somehow disappointed when it didn't come.

"Yeah, you should have told me," Gibbs agreed without heat. "You take way too many risks with your health, Tony. I know I want to keep up our closure rate, but it's not worth you risking your life for, got it?" When Tony didn't immediately reply, Gibbs bumped their knees together. "I said, you got it?"

"I guess," Tony agreed, but Gibbs was pretty sure it was more for form's sake than anything else. "But we risk our lives all the time for this job. What we do is important. The justice we bring about for the families of the victims is important."

"Not saying it's not, DiNozzo. And I know better than anyone that you will always give one hundred and ten percent to this job, even if it means sacrificing yourself. But that doesn't always make it right." He thought hard about what he wanted to say, and decided it had really all been said before, only DiNozzo had slept through it. He had made a promise back there in the hospital that he would repeat himself to the younger man once he was awake. He found the words came more easily the second time around. "I rely on you. You need to know that. I always have, since the day you came to NCIS from Baltimore. I've never had a better second than you. Nobody out there watches my six the way you do. I don't have to worry about walking into a scene when you're by my side, and if it all goes to hell, I know you'll be right where I need you to be. I need you to keep me in line when I start going all 'Captain Ahab' from time to time. Need you to keep thinking outside the box and coming up with leads the rest of us miss. I need you to keep making those stupid movie references and cracking off-color jokes when things get a little too dark, because you're just about the only one these days who can still make me laugh."

Tony smiled at this, insanely pleased. "I _knew _you liked my movie references."

Gibbs gave him a mock glare. "Don't get cocky."

Tony's grin only grew.

Gibbs fought to smother his own grin in return, but inside he was smiling. He felt something loosen inside his chest, and after a moment, he realized it was _hope_. He was starting to think maybe he and Tony would be able to patch this up after all. The idea that perhaps they could recapture what had been lost was a light at the end of a long and dark tunnel. He wasn't finished yet, though.

"I meant what I said before, Tony. You are a _damn_ good agent. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise. I know you don't always see yourself that way, and I know McGee and Ziva give you a hard time. Don't let them get to you. And if they do, then I want you to remember something: _ I_ have faith in you. Don't ever forget that."

Tony swallowed nervously, uncertain he was hearing what he thought he was, what he had craved hearing for as long as he could remember. "You mean that, Boss?"

"Wouldn't have said it if I didn't." He studied the younger man. "You believe me?"

He hesitated. "Trying to," Tony admitted.

Gibbs knew it would take time, and a whole lot of positive reinforcement before he could convince Tony of the truth of that statement. He was beginning to think maybe they'd have that time after all. There was still one more thing he needed to address before he felt they could begin the process of putting this whole mess behind them. Hopefully, they'd come out stronger for it on the other side, but the words were still difficult. "I'm serious about you taking better care of yourself too, Tony. No more unnecessary risks. I told you, I'm depending on you."

"Yes, Boss."

Gibbs' heart lifted at the familiar term. "I mean it, DiNozzo. Already lost one family. Don't want to go through that again. We clear?" He waited, not dropping his gaze, holding out hope that the young man would understand exactly what he couldn't come right out and say. He could see that he'd caught Tony off guard. These weren't things they talked about often, if ever. But he couldn't take a chance that they would end up in this place again sometime down the road. He _needed_ DiNozzo to understand exactly the place he held in his boss's life. He was gratified to see the truth beginning to shine in Tony's eyes.

"Crystal, Boss."

~0~

Tony felt about ready to collapse. He'd been heading off to bed over an hour ago, long before he'd come down to the basement for the first time in months. He wasn't sure he had the strength to make it back up the stairs now, and he wasn't sure he had the courage to ask for help. Everything they had talked about tonight had left him reeling. So many things had been said; things he'd longed to hear for years, but never really dreamed he would. After the last few months, he would have been certain that the man he saw as more of a father to him than his own flesh and blood never felt the same way, and never would.

He was never more glad to be wrong, and for the rest of his life, he could confidently carry the knowledge that Gibbs thought he was_ family_. That word held more meaning to Tony than it did to most, probably because it was something he'd never really had. He did now, though, and he would never take that gift for granted. There was only one thing that still worried him.

"So, um, what about your resignation?" he questioned.

Gibbs felt the warmth of the agent beside him where their shoulders barely touched, and he leaned in for the briefest of seconds. "Not quite ready to go just yet, if that's all right with you. Thinking I'll stick around for a while."

Tony nodded profusely. "Good. That's good." He paused, his tired brain trying to think. "So, um, does that mean you want me to . . . "

"You even think about leaving and I'll hunt you down and shoot you myself. Got it?"

Tony smiled. "Got it."

Gibbs stood to his feet and faced the recovering agent. "I'm not promising it will be all smooth sailing, DiNozzo. I'm sure I'll screw up plenty. I didn't come to be called a bastard by accident. And I know there will be times when you drive me up a wall. But when I do mess up, I'm counting on you to bring it to my attention. You do that, and I figure we'll manage to get our groove back."

Tony looked up at him delightedly. "Did you actually just make a movie reference? And not just any reference, but a reasonably current pop-culture reference for a film that I can't believe you've heard of, much less seen?"

Gibbs smiled and held out a hand. "Ex-wife number two. I think. Maybe three. It's all still a little fuzzy."

Tony looked at him warily. "How fuzzy?" he asked, concerned.

Gibbs took him by the arm and helped him up the stairs. "Don't worry. I remember the important stuff."

He led his Senior Field Agent gently up the second set of stairs to the bedrooms, pausing at the door to the room that would always be Tony's. "If you think you can drag your butt out of bed at a decent hour tomorrow, I might be persuaded to make pancakes," he tempted.

Tony's spirits lifted immediately. Gibbs' pancakes were legendary. "Sweet. I might just sleep down in the kitchen tonight to be safe."

Gibbs turned him and gave him a gentle shove into the room. "Your own bed will do. Now go, before I change my mind."

"On it, Boss," came Tony's sleepy reply.

Gibbs hadn't heard anything that good in a long time.

TBC . . .

A/N: Can't believe we're almost at the end! Epilogue to be posted tomorrow...


	21. Epilogue

_Epilogue  
_

Tony walked by the open door of the bathroom as he made his way downstairs for breakfast the next morning. What he saw there stopped him in his tracks. He caught Gibbs' gaze in the reflection. "You shaved!" he blurted out.

"Every morning for years," Gibbs said dryly, rinsing his razor off in the running water and moving to another section of his face.

"No, I mean your mustache. It's gone!"

Gibbs stopped shaving and looked at Tony. "You got a problem with that, DiNozzo?"

Tony shook his head adamantly as he backtracked out of the bathroom. "No, Boss. No problem. Looking good!" He hustled down the stairs, leaving a smiling Gibbs behind.

They were back to 'Boss' again. His grin grew. Looking good, indeed.

~0~

It was only a few minutes later that Gibbs made his own way downstairs. He could hear DiNozzo talking quietly in the other room, and followed the sound of the voice, gratified to see the young man already seated at the kitchen table. The smell of coffee permeated the air.

"Yeah, you too. I'll talk to you later." Tony said in closing. He flipped the phone shut as Gibbs walked into the kitchen.

"That her? Your girlfriend?" the silver-haired man asked amiably enough, heading for the coffee maker.

"Yeah. Jeanne."

"French? Pretty name. She's a doctor, right?"

Tony's eyes narrowed in disbelief. "How did you know that?" Gibbs' investigative skills were legendary bordering on supernatural, but Tony was still amazed.

"Something you said back at the Lawrence place." Gibbs grabbed a mug out of the cabinet and poured himself a cup of coffee. "So, am I going to get to meet her?" he asked, blowing the steam off the brew.

Tony looked immediately uncomfortable. "It's . . . complicated."

Gibbs merely raised an eyebrow in question.

Tony debated how much he could reveal without going against the orders of the Director regarding his undercover assignment. He'd give anything to be able to talk to Gibbs about it, get the older man's advice over something that he was beginning to feel was over his head, but he knew he had to hold off for now. "She doesn't exactly know what I do for a living. Not sure how she'd handle being involved with an agent. Of course, the scar from this bullet wound is going to be a bit hard to explain."

Gibbs smirked. "Maybe she won't notice."

Tony rolled his eyes. "She's a doctor, Gibbs. She'll notice."

Gibbs nodded sagely. "I'm sure you'll think of something." He walked over to the table, coming to stand next to where DiNozzo was seated, and he put down his mug. "Look, Tony, if you want my advice, you should come clean with her. If she's the right one for you, it won't matter what you do for a living."

The earnest words caused a bleak expression to cloud Tony's face, and he said nothing.

Gibbs frowned, taking note of the stiff shoulders of his agent. Something was off here, and he made a vow to get to the bottom of it. For now, though, he would make the only offer he could. "You know, I'm here," he said somewhat awkwardly. "If you ever want to talk."

Tony looked at him uncertainly, searching his face, before breaking into a smile. "Thanks, Boss, but I'm not sure taking relationship advice from a guy who's got three ex-wives is really the best . . ."

The head-slap came out of nowhere, comfortable in its familiarity and all the more appreciated for its absence. As soon as it was done, the fingers lingered, giving a gentle rub on the back of Tony's head that neither man commented on.

"Shutting up, Boss."

"Good." Gibbs pulled out the chair next to him and sat down, reaching for the newspaper. He could feel Tony continue to study him, and he looked up questioningly.

"You're _here_, huh?" Tony asked quietly as he repeated Gibbs' words of a moment ago.

Gibbs knew what was being asked. Knew this was more than just DiNozzo wanting to know if he'd be around to chat about his love life. He knew that the younger man wanted confirmation that Gibbs was around to stay. That he'd be there for the long haul, watching DiNozzo's six, sharing his wisdom with the younger man, smacking his head and leading the way for the years to come. That Gibbs would still be around long after others had left. That Gibbs would be there whenever DiNozzo needed him. No matter when, no matter where.

There was only one answer to that question. Gibbs looked him directly in the eye, and nodded.

"Always, Tony. Always."

~0~

A/N: I totally have bittersweet feelings about ending this story! It's been such a great ride, and I owe a HUGE thank you to all of you who reviewed so faithfully - this story was completed for you. And it is dedicated to AZGirl - who gifted me with the plot bunny so long ago, and then joined me halfway through with her wonderful talent as a beta. Her encouragement and suggestions made this a much better story.

And then she went and did it again - barely had I typed the last word on the epilogue when she made a suggestion for a follow-up that is currently ruminating in my brain, surrounding the episodes Angel of Death, Bury Your Dead, and Family. It seems there are still some emotional rows left for me to hoe between these two guys. I plan to return to my previous policy of not posting anything until it's finished, so don't worry if you don't hear from me for a bit. :)

Thank you again - your response is overwhelming - you guys are awesome!


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